


Metropolis

by BuckinghamAlice, lightsparkwatchboom



Series: The Dark'n'Bossy/BigBlueSky Role-Play Archive [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DC Comics, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, M/M, Please Hang This Lamp Shade Over the Plot Holes, RP Blog Archive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-05
Updated: 2014-01-05
Packaged: 2018-01-07 15:36:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 37,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1121573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuckinghamAlice/pseuds/BuckinghamAlice, https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightsparkwatchboom/pseuds/lightsparkwatchboom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce Wayne is forced to go to Metropolis on business, which quickly deteriorates into having to work with Superman when an assassin shoots him in the ribs with a kryptonite bullet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is Part 3 of the Dark'n'Bossy/BigBlueSky role-play you can find under the 'dab bbs rp' tag on tumblr. This is our first SRS BZNS plot we're attempting here folks, give us some slack.

It had been three weeks since they parted in the safehouse. Batman had been keeping a very, very keen eye on the one they called Superman.

“I must say, it is so good to see you reading more than police reports,” Alfred commented.

“Already read those,” Bruce replied.

“Of course.”Alfred set the tray of cold food down. It was no use making warm meals for him anymore, he had learned.

Bruce went back to studying the articles. (Or was it Batman again?)

&&&

Later that night, Batman – and it was most assuredly Batman – had appeared in Jim Gordon’s office.

“Christ, you could give a man his death,” Jim said, clutching at his chest. Batman took in the dilated pupils, the colorless cheeks. He nodded his head.

“Check the Washington bridge,” he said.

“Oh good. Presents.” Jim turned to grab a folder, but Batman already knew what it contained. He himself was halfway through the investigation.

He left. Jim would hate him for it. Yet staring out over Gotham city, perched high on a WayneEnt tower, he couldn’t find it in him to care. He wondered, for one brief second, what kind of person that made him.

And then he checked the skies. When he knew they were clear, he jumped.

&&&

Miranda laughed, leaning up against Brucie as she did so. “You did  _not_  just say that to him!”

“Oh, but I did,” Brucie replied, flashing a smile at her. He lead the way past the stricken bouncer. Inside  _The Heat_  nightclub, he found himself assaulted by music and lights.

“Oh, there’s Amanda!” Miranda shouted at him. “We go  _way_  back, hang on.” She started waving one arm. “Anda! Anda A!”

“Anda One?” Amanda yelled back. She squealed, and the two girls ran to hug each other.

Bruce tried to keep his smile, but right now, there was far more than the bass line pounding in his chest.

&&&

And then, Lucius dropped the ball.

“ _You_  need to go to Metropolis.”

“I…can’t,” Bruce replied. He thought of twenty different reasons, but none of them would hold water for Lucius, he knew. “I have a date, I’m planning this party—”

“Bruce, you know I wouldn’t be asking you if I had another choice,” Lucius said. He pointed a finger across the desk. “This is a once-in-a-lifetime deal with LexCorp and STAR Labs. It’ll be the team-up of the century, the world’s first commercial space station. Do you have any idea how groundbreaking this is? What it’ll do for WayneEnt — for all of its  _employees_?”

Lucius always knew how much Bruce actually cared about his father’s company. Yet for all he knew, he couldn’t ever guess exactly how much anxiety Bruce was actually suppressing right then and there.

“Alright. When do I leave?” Bruce asked.

“Five hours. I already called ahead to Alfred.”

Bruce put on a Brucie smile. “You were so confident in me, huh?”

“Knew you wouldn’t let us down.”

Bruce nodded. He thought about how much kryptonite he needed to pack.

===

Clark had spent the past three weeks working very hard on not letting regret get to him, and he’d paid much more attention than he normally might have to the Gotham papers.  

His morning was spent between stopping a robbery at a little bodega in Suicide Slum, rescuing a little girl from the attic of a house that was burning down (and going back for her kitten and American Girl doll), and picking up his favorite suit from the dry cleaner.  (They’d just managed to get out the rhubarb pie stain on the jacket and charged him double.)

Then he went to work.

He and Lois were huddled together, having a lively debate about the approach they should take on their latest piece — a follow-up to the one they wrote about the rumored sightings of Superman and Batman working together in Gotham City.  There had been several so-called sightings of the new  _team_  since that strange night, and it had only been on Perry’s insistence (to put it mildly) that he’d agree to cover them.

Jimmy walked by the two of them and grinned.  ”Heads up, you two.  The Chief wants you in his office… like now.”  They exchanged a look and went into Perry’s office.

"Oh, good," Perry began when they walked in, heaving a sigh of relief.  "Got an assignment for you.  Those rumors of a collaboration between LexCorp and STAR Labs are looking pretty real right now… and Wayne Enterprises is in on it too."

Lois clapped her hands together once.  ”That commercial space station?  I knew it wasn’t all bull!  This is amazing!”

"And the grapevine says Bruce Wayne is coming to Metropolis on behalf of his company," Perry continued.  "And the two of you are going to be there when he arrives.  Meet him right out on the tarmac and interview him there.  We’re going to cover this thing every step of the way."

Clark reminded himself at this moment to breathe.  He had stopped right around the time Perry had mentioned WayneEnt and had furrowed his brows around the mention of Bruce’s name.  ”Chief, I don’t think…”

Perry cut him off.  ”That’s right, Kent.  Don’t think.  Write.”

"But —"

"No buts either," he insisted.  "I need my two best people on this thing, and that’s the two of you!  And besides, you’ve met that Wayne fella a few times.  I thought you both seemed to like him well enough."

"Clark certainly did," Lois said with a playful grin.

"Then there you go," Perry said brusquely.  "Now, no more protests.  Get your butts in gear."

Clark walked out of the office, probably looking as dejected as he felt.  He didn’t want to deal with Bruce, now or ever.  And having him in Metropolis meant Batman was only a change of clothes away, and he definitely didn’t want that.  And he was more than a little annoyed that Bruce was blatantly and publicly coming to Metropolis after all the times he’d said to stay out of Gotham.

He plopped down in his chair, and muttered, “He can shove it.”  He honestly hadn’t meant to say it out loud at all, even under his breath, so he bit his lip and blushed apologetically.  And then he wanted to kick himself for feeling bad about being rude to  _him_  of all people… when he wasn’t even there to hear it.

"What did you say?" Lois asked, looking amused.  She didn’t have super hearing but she always managed to hear things like that.  One of her more irritating qualities.

Clark shook his head.  ”Nothing.  I just… this doesn’t really seem like news.  It’s business… why are we covering a business deal that isn’t even final?”

"Oh, come on, Clark," Lois replied, shaking her head.  "You know this is a much bigger deal than that.  I’m a little surprised at your reluctance… I’d have thought you’d be jumping at this story.  You’ll get to see Bruce again."

_That’s the problem right there_.  ”Why would I  _want_  to see him?” he asked.

Lois laughed.  ”Oh, don’t play innocent with me.  You’re dying for a chance to flirt with him some more.”

"I was not flirting," he insisted, realizing even as he said it that it was far from true.  But at least he could feel confident that there’d be none of that this time around.  Outside of his professional responsibility as a journalist, he planned to stay away from Bruce Wayne.

===

"Are you sure you won’t be needing my services in Metropolis, sir?" Alfred asked.

"No," Bruce said. "I need you here in case…"

Alfred nodded. “Very well, sir. I await your return.” He bowed his head politely, and Bruce took his one carry-on bag to check-in.

It was surprisingly easy to fool x-ray machines, he realized shortly into his career. It just required clever packing and a sheet made of a very particular material, the kind of thing NASA usually had to experiment on for months before finding a public use. Of course, this was the one thing they had denied public use, but that didn’t mean WayneTech was off limits. Not when so much funding was on the line.

Still, he decided to look into the cost of a personal jet, and if he should really be affording that and Batman at the same time.

The flight to Metropolis was short, barely only 45 minutes. Being in First Class made it even shorter. It seemed as though he had barely begun to adjust to his surroundings, had barely had time to make his calculations and projections when the plane had successfully landed, and he was stepping out into the afternoon sun.

===

Apparently the Planet hadn’t been the only paper to learn of Bruce’s plans, because when Clark arrived, Lois excitedly chattering in his ear, there was already a handful of reporters waiting, and as they stood there, several more arrived.  If it had been just about anyone else, Clark would have felt bad about being a part of the ambush waiting at the airport.  But it wasn’t anyone else.  It was Bruce Wayne.  It was  _Batman_.  And he could handle it.

Clark thought back to that night in Kasnia — the smile that had been plastered on Bruce’s face.  And then he remembered the scowls Batman had given him at every chance.  Which one, he wondered, had been the act and which had been real?  Well, it didn’t matter anyways.

When Bruce appeared, the reporters started shouting questions.  In the face of his youth, good looks, and media friendly presentation, they’d lost all sense of professionalism.

Clark couldn’t help furrowing his brow and throwing in, “Why are you  _really_  in Metropolis?”

===

Brucie smiled bright and dimpled for the cameras. “You caught me,” he said to Clark. “I’m not here for any such commercial space activity. I am here for— and you can quote me on this — the  _wonderful_  ladies of tomorrow.” Then he caught Lois’ eyes and sucked in a nervous breath, bowing his head and holding out a hand gingerly. “Who could never compare to the lady I see before me today.”

===

Lois grinned.  ”You are ever the charmer.”  She took his hand and gave Clark a look that plainly said that she thought things were already going well.  He returned one that plainly said Bruce’s remarks should come with hip waders because they were pure you-know-what.

"That was… impressive," Clark said with a smile.  "That’ll make a lovely headline.  If I didn’t know any better I’d think you rehearsed that line."

"Clark —" Lois began with a warning tone to her voice.

"Sorry," Clark replied with a little shrug.  "I’m kidding.  He knows I’m kidding."

===

"Mm, the first part I thought of on the way over," Brucie said. He pushed his lips into a sweet kiss on Lois’ knuckles, one that lingered just  _barely_  into something beyond courteous. ”But the last part, I didn’t think of until just now.”

"Mr. Wayne," a grave voice said above the crowd. Bruce raised his head and looked: a short but very formidable woman in a suit and pencil skirt opened what he assumed was his car’s door. She didn’t say anything else.

"Ah, normally, I would happily put off my duties, but I don’t think she looks like the kind of driver I want to irritate," Brucie said, more or less to the crowd as a whole. He dropped his voice low when he said to Lois, "Would you do me the favor of dining with me this evening, however?"

===

"Oh!" Lois exclaimed, genuinely surprised.  She glanced to Clark, presumably to get his approval and he purposely looked anywhere else.  He wasn’t going to weigh in on  _that_  one.  

"Well…" she began, wrinkling her nose.  She gave Clark one more glance, but he was still avoiding making eye contact.  She smiled.  "I suppose that would be fine.  I’d like that."

===

Excitement and relief were crafted along every line of his face. “Great! I mean,  _ahem_. Good. I’ll call you.” He looked like he was trying to contain himself as he practically jogged to the car, bag slung over his shoulder. He turned and smiled at Lois again, and briefly, just briefly, did he flick his gaze to Clark — and nothing changed about his expression.

Bruce settled into the back of the car. He had planned on asking for the privacy window, but the driver already had that up.  _Cameras and microphones_ , he thought reflexively. He strained to keep the grin on his face. _  
_

And then he realized what he had done.


	2. Chapter 2

It was a silent cab ride back to the office until they got stuck in traffic.  

"Are you… are you upset with me?" Lois finally asked.

Clark looked out the cab’s window and sighed.  ”Why should I be?”

Lois sighed.  ”I know you liked him…”

"I do  _not_  like him,” Clark replied.  ”I’m a grown man, not some lovesick teenager.  And I barely know him.”

"I’ll call it off if you ask me to," Lois said softly, before quickly adding, "But please don’t ask me to.  I… you don’t meet a man like that every day."

"No, you don’t," Clark said, looking back to her.  "It’s.. fine.  Go… have fun."  He forced a smile.  "No hard feelings."

And he wanted to mean that.  But the truth was the thing that was making him uncomfortable wasn’t that Bruce looked right at him and made a show of flirting with Lois right in front of him.  It was the fact that he, that Batman, was taking Lois out and involving her in this.  And there was no way he could stop it or even say anything about without looking like he was just being jealous.  Throwing a big gay fit, as Lois would say.  (She had said it before — with love, she insisted.)  

This move of Bruce’s… of Batman’s… was calculated and a little cruel.  And Clark was backed into a corner.  

Well played, Batman.

===

"Are you sure you don’t want to call Lucius?" Lex asked. "It’s alright if you do."

The project manager, one Dr. Greys, stared purposefully at his pen and paper.

"Oh, he’s a busy man, no need to disrupt him. That’s why he sent me," Brucie replied. And for once, that really was the truth. "Don’t worry, I’ve got the gist of it so far. I deal more with final product though. Advertising and stuff." He repeated his own mental notes on three cut corners and one quasi-vital flaw. He’d need to change the blueprints for the last one.

"Yes, I’m aware," Lex said. He eyed Bruce up and down, then angled his chair to Dr. Greys. "Now you were saying something about the contractors…"

Bruce put on a much too thoughtful face, one perfect for Brucie, and he watched. He watched the way Lex spoke, how his mouth twitched up or down, how the wrinkles around his eyes waxed and waned in turn. He watched how Lex rarely pointed in the same direction as he looked, and how he nodded his head when he spoke, hoping to gain either Brucie’s or Dr. Greys’ compliance. He was, truly, a formidable force.

Bruce sat back in his chair. Part of him ran to the end of its chain, barking and snapping, wanting nothing more than to rip Lex apart. But he paid attention to every muscle in his body. He felt every breath pass through his lungs. He controlled it all. He controlled himself.

He waited.

===

It was easier than Clark would have expected to put the idea of Lois dating Bruce out of his mind.  She seemed to be in such a good mood, he didn’t want to spoil it for her or bring her down.  It was none of his business anyways.  So he occupied his thoughts with making mental notes on the story they’d write on this.

As they sat stalled in traffic about six blocks away from the office, Lois eventually sighed and said, “We’d get there faster if we just got out and walked the rest of the way.”  Clark agreed, and they started down the street.

But as they walked, Clark listened to the city around him.  And things seemed calm, until the one split second that changed everything.  He heard the sound of a bullet — a sniper’s bullet.  And even he wasn’t fast enough to stop it from taking out its intended target — the engineer of a commuter train headed west and full of people.  But he wouldn’t let the split second that took the engineer’s life take anyone else’s.  He had to get to that train.

He made a show of patting his pockets.  ”Oh, sugar!  I like my phone in that cab,” he said.  ”I have to go to the taxi dispatch to see if the driver turned it in.”  And he took off running and ducked down the nearest alley.

"But you just had your phone in your hand a minute ago," Lois was saying.  But he was long gone before she had even opened her mouth.

===

"Will that be all, Dr. Greys?" Luthor asked.

"I, uh, believe that’s it." Dr. Greys frowned, but as quickly as it came, it was gone. Bruce didn’t know how much of the situation Dr. Greys understood consciously, but he himself knew exactly what had happened. He himself saw the exact loophole Luthor would end up exploiting to get full commercial control of the project, once the grunt work had been done.

"Then I believe we are ready to sign. Mark this day on your calendar, boys, because we’re all about to make history." Luthor smiled thinly as he held up his pen.

"Uh, actually," Brucie began, trying not to look too sheepish. "I, well…"

Luthor glared at him with a hellish fury. “You’re thinking about contacting Lucius after all, aren’t you?”

Brucie beamed. “Sorry. I know what I said earlier and—”

"Mr. Luthor." The grave woman, the one who had been his driver — Merci, her name was — appeared in the doorway. She was the only one who had access to this room at this time, Luthor had explain earlier.

A silent conversation passed between them.

"Very well," Luthor said. He stood hastily from his seat. "I’ll contact you again tomorrow. The NDA is still in effect until these papers have been assigned, remember that."

Bruce watched as Luthor departed quickly. That was odd, he decided. And entirely Luthor’s fault that he was left unguarded now.

"Here, let me help you with these papers," Brucie said to Dr. Geys.

===

He was little more than a blue and red blur as he flew towards the train.

The train minus its conductor was speeding ahead, and if he didn’t stop it now, a few quick calculations told him it would collide with the eastbound train in about three minutes.

He flew up to the train from the opposite direction and caught it, slowing it to a stop as he did so. 

===

Bruce walked out of the conference room, all smiles and cheer, and then he saw the news being broadcast on a monitor placed in the corner of the room.

"Well how’s that for catching the train on time, huh Mikey?" the female news anchor said. Bruce recognized her as Rari somethingorother; he hadn’t ever read her surname. She was talking while cell phone-quality footage in the corner showed Superman stopping a train.

"Yeah, you can say that again," her co-anchor said. He was new. "We’ll have on-the-minute news as the situation develops."

Bruce hummed only in spirit.

"Mr. Wayne," a young secretary said. "Driver just called and said your car’s ready whenever you are."

Brucie beamed. “Thanks.” He started walking away, then he turned on his heels, looking up almost ashamedly. “Bathroom?”

The secretary made a tender expression. “Just right down that way,” she said, pointing the capped tip of her marker.

"Thanks." He headed off.

===

Luckily, no one on the train was seriously injured, beyond the murdered conductor, that is.  The man had a wife and two boys in elementary school.  Clark balled his fists and determined to find out who had done this and bring those poor people some justice.  Who could have done such a thing… and why?  The man had led a simple life and hadn’t made any enemies… yet with a sniper, it was hard to believe this a random act of violence.  It made Clark uncomfortable; beside the fact that an innocent man had died, there was the fact that it seemed like there was something more to the picture here.  Something that had yet to click into place.  Probably something he wouldn’t like when it did.

When he was able to leave, Clark flew back to the office.  ”I had to walk all the way to 17th Street to get my phone,” he said, slipping into his desk chair.

Lois looked up from her notes and shook her head.  ”You’re always losing things.  Because you were so tied up tracking down that phone of yours, which you could have replaced by the way, you missed out on a great Superman story.  And because I was fool enough to be with  _you_ , I was too late to see much of the action myself.”

"Sorry about that," Clark said half-heartedly.  "Suppose you’ll have to watch the grainy camera phone footage like the rest of us."

"Yeah… I guess so," she replied.  Then, studying his face, she asked, "Are you still in a mood about you-know-who?"

Clark turned away from Lois and began shuffling some papers around on the side of his desk.  ”I don’t know who you mean.”

Lois smiled.  ”Come on, Smallville, be reasonable.  You’re being short with me and I don’t think that’s entirely fair.  I gave you your chance to say that you didn’t want me to go out with him.”  

Clark snorted.  Some chance.   _I’ll say no if you ask me to, but please don’t ask me to_ , she had said.  He heaved a sigh and put on a smile. “Honestly,” he began.  ”I’m fine.  I want you to go and have a good time.  I don’t care.  It wasn’t as if…” He cut himself off.  He had been about to say it wasn’t as if he had had a chance, but that didn’t feel entirely true.  He could have said it wasn’t as if it would have worked out anyways, but that would surely prompt follow-up questions he didn’t want to answer.

"Good attitude," Lois said with a smile that was slightly patronizing.  "Better that you accept now that they can’t  _all_  play for your — “

"If you say ‘team’ we’re through," Clark said with a little smile.  Lois laughed, and the subject was dropped.  And everything in the newsroom returned to normal, or as close to normal as was possible.

Lois left work early that evening and went by Macy’s.  She felt a little silly, going and buying a new dress for one date — a first date that might not even mean anything — but she realized that Bruce Wayne hung around with models and starlets and debutantes… and she had a lot of nice clothes, sure.  But she didn’t have anything like what he was used to seeing girls wear.  So she laughed at herself as she pawed through cocktail dresses, admitted the silliness of the situation as she tried on a few things, and decided she could stand to give up take-out as she paid for her new form-fitting lavender silk dress and a cream and ivory lacy shawl to go over it.

She blew into her apartment and took a fast shower, practically jumped into her clothes, and fixed her hair and makeup.  She was just putting the cap back on her mascara as the doorbell rang.


	3. Chapter 3

"I’m afraid you’ll be rather disappointed with the results, sir," Alfred said through speaker.

Bruce frowned. “Try me.”

"Well." Alfred paused. "There are none."

Bruce’s frown deepened. Lex was much better than he gave the man credit for. “Thanks Alfred. I’ll take it from here.”

"Very well, sir. And might I suggest the violet?"

"Ah—" Bruce looked down at his cuff link box. Part of him wanted to ask, but the rest of him already knew. He smiled. "Goodnight, Alfred."

"Goodnight, Master Bruce. And good luck."

Bruce disconnected the line. He switched out his ocean-blues with gemstone-violets, then hooked a watch onto his wrist.

 _No results_ , his mind played back for him. His computer had found  _nothing_  to report. He started weighing the risks of doing a little manual digging at the same time that he made plans to look over his systems. Either Lex was squeaky clean, or his programs clearly needed refinement.

It took twenty minutes for his driver to get him to the Mongolian restaurant. He confirmed his table for two inside, then waited outside for the chauffeur he sent to Lois to arrive.

===

Lois smoothed her dress and double checked her hair in the mirror in the hallway before she opened the door.  She flashed her lovely smile but was ultimately disappointed when she did not see Bruce standing there.

"Oh," she began.  "Can I help you?"

"Miss Lane?" the man standing there asked, tipping his cap.  "I’m James, Mr. Wayne’s chauffeur for the evening."

"Oh, of course," she said, shaking her head.  She should have expected a chauffeur.  She grabbed her purse from the coat rack behind the door and pulled her shawl tighter around herself as she followed James out the door.  Outside, a classic black limousine was waiting.  James opened her door for her, and once they were both inside, he drove silently away.  

They pulled up in front of one of the stylish restaurants in the business and shopping district downtown.  She smiled as she stepped out of the car and looked around for her date.

===

Bruce threw on a grin all over his face. “I take back what I said earlier,” he began, stepping up beside her, “ _this_  is the woman of tomorrow.” He made a show of looking her up and down. Alfred had suggested the violet for her eyes, but the dress matching was an added bonus he should have expected.

"Shall we?" he asked, offering his arm.

===

Lois smiled and took the offered arm.  ”Thank you.  But I assure you, I’m the woman of today, and if you play your cards right, perhaps the woman of tonight.”

===

Bruce felt his stomach fall inside him. He kept his grin as he lead the way inside, until hostess took over and lead them to a dimly lit, quiet alcove of the restaurant. Their table was set up with candles and wine at the ready.

"I’ll take it from here," Bruce whispered to the hostess, before she could go for the bottle. The hostess nodded and left, then Bruce brushed his hands over Lois’ shoulders, removing the shawl with something like a promise. "Do I get a hint, at least?" he spoke lowly in her ear.

===

This guy knew what he was doing.

Lois smiled coyly and cast her violet eyes up to Bruce’s uncannily blue ones.  ”A hint of what?”

===

He draped the shawl over the back of the chair and pulled it out for her. “Why, what makes the famous Lois Lane tick, of course.”

===

"Oh, come now," she began.  "You’re a clever boy, aren’t you?  I’d imagine you could figure me out pretty easily."  She sat down.  "I’m fairly straight forward."

===

"You are, perhaps, the least straight-forward woman I have ever met," Bruce said, going for the wine. "A reporter of renown, friends with Superman — not that I’m going to go down that road, just making a list here." He poured a courteous amount for her. "A personality that reminds me of an Amazon warrior, yet a kindness nothing short of deep compassion that comes through in all of your work." He glanced at her as he poured his own glass. "Which I’ve read all of, by the way. I’m uh, a bit of a fan."

===

"Oh," Lois said with a little smile.  "I’m flattered.  I didn’t take you for the kind of person who read newspapers."  Then, taking a sip of her wine, she said, "No offense."

 

===

Bruce chuckled. “None taken.” He sat himself across the table. “Just so long as you’re not offended that I called ahead and ordered for us.”

===

"Not at all," she began.  "I’m never opposed to the gold star treatment.  Unless of course I don’t like my meal… in that case, you will be sorry.  Don’t you worry about that."

 

===

"To be honest, I’ve never met a person who didn’t like Mongolian grill-fried food. It’s the sauce they use, it can turn burnt garbage into a three-star meal." He tilted his head. "But tell me something, Miss Lane: how on  _Earth_  did someone like you decide to be a reporter?”

===

"Call me Lois, please," she said.  Then, thoughtfully, she continued, "And as for why I became a reporter, there’s really no simple answer.  Part of it is the fact that I love to write — but that’s probably the smallest part.  I guess I just grew up being used to action, all fast paced, all big stuff.  So I’d have to do something… thrilling and real."  She paused to sip her wine.  "But I guess I mainly just love the truth.  It’s… oh, I’m sure that all sounds terribly corny…"

===

"Not at all!" Brucie cheered earnestly. "I actually thought about becoming an investigative reporter myself, when I was younger. I equated the experience to the CIA or James Bond. That didn’t happen for, well, obvious reasons but—" he let teeth shine through his mouth "—I’d be a liar if I said I still didn’t think about it."

===

"An investigative reporter?  Really?" Lois asked with a smile.  "That’s surprising.  You seem like the sort of man who’d have dreamed of being a rock star or a pirate or something.  Though I have to admit… I can see the James Bond comparison."

 

===

He chuckled politely. “Well, there’s always that, at least.” Clearing his throat, he continued, “But what do you do outside of work? I’m sure — oh.”

The waiter appeared and laid two plates down, one for each. Steam rose off the pile of noodles, veal, talapia, and corn, among others. Its scent was a mixture of spicy and sweet that promised nothing but the purest of flavors.

"Mongolian and wine," Brucie mused. "Only Metropolis would have this."

===

Lois laughed.  ”Oh, don’t tell me you’re missing Gotham City already!  Surely Metropolis Mongolian and wine isn’t the  _most_  interesting thing you’ve encountered here.”  Lois picked up her fork and took a polite little bite of veal.  ”Mmm, that’s quite good.  You ordered well… though I’m sure you’ve had plenty of practice.  And to answer your question, I suppose I do the usual things… read, do the crossword puzzle in every paper I come across, watch bad movies, even occasionally play video games with Clark.”  Then, eyes widening when she realized she may have introduced an awkward subject, she rushed to add, “Not that we need to talk about him.”

===

Bruce quirked an eyebrow. That was exactly what he was looking for.

"Why not?" he asked. "The man’s likable enough. You said that you were working together, right?"

===

Lois looked at him curiously.  That was… odd.  How many men would respond like that when you accidentally mentioned another man on your first date?

"He’s more than likable," she said honestly.  "He’s a great guy.  My best friend, truth be told."

===

First, there was jealousy. Bruce reasoned that out of the way very quickly, too quick for him to wonder if the jealousy was actually for Clar—  _Superman_  or Lois.

His next thought was to reply with,  _And you have excellent taste in men, it seems_. He decided not to go with it.

"Best friends like him are few and far between," he said instead. "Now go on, try it. I wasn’t kidding about the sauce."

===

"Huh," she began, almost to herself.  Looking Bruce in the eye, careful and critical, she asked, "You weren’t kidding about that investigative reporter thing.  But if you were ever going to make it in  _that_  field, you’d have to dig a little deeper than you just did.”  She twirled some noodles onto her fork, and just before she tried them, she asked, “Now, why  _did_  you drop the subject so suddenly?”

===

Brucie blushed, put a embarrassed grin on his face. He stared down at his food and pushed his lips around contemplatively. “I’m sorry. I had wanted to ask, but then I realized that it was probably the worst topic of conversation I could’ve gone for.” He glanced up and laughed once. “But I can see why you’re the investigative reporter, and I’m the James Bond fantasy.” He sucked in a deep breath. “I was curious as to why you two weren’t dating, if you are such good friends.”

 

===

Lois laughed, almost too loud.  ”Don’t apologize.  And  _I’m_  sorry… I just… well, it isn’t that way with us.  I’m… decidedly not his type.”  She cleared her throat.  ”And besides, don’t you have friends you don’t date?”  Probably a silly question.

===

"He’s gay, isn’t he?" Brucie bit his lip. "Sorry. It’s just that between the flirting he’s done and the ‘not his type’ comment you’ve made, it’s not that hard to put two and two together." He held up one hand in a placating manner. "Not that I’m judging, I’d just like to know for sure. Because, well…I honestly cannot see a man ever wanting to pass you up for any other reason."

 

===

"Well, that’s very kind of you to say," Lois said, sounding more unconvinced than she meant to.  "And not that it’s  _my_  place to tell you or  _your_  business to ask, but yes, he is.  Well, bi with a strong preference, but you say tomato.”  She waved her hand dismissively.  And then, a little more seriously, she asked, “And why  _do_  you ask?  Did he make you uncomfortable?  Because I’m sure he didn’t mean to…”

===

Oh, she was good.  _Really_  good. No wonder she had almost exclusive rights to Luthor, if her publication history was any indication of that.

"He didn’t make me uncomfortable," Bruce began. "Well, no, I suppose perhaps a  _bit_ uncomfortable.” He ignored the feeling swooping around his stomach right now as Kasnia and the Wayne Foundation came back to him. “But, it’s nothing that I, as a grown adult, could not handle.”

He cleared his throat. “But perhaps we should pick a different subject. I didn’t mean to offend, and I’m sorry if I did.”

===

"Oh, don’t be so sensitive," she began with a smile.   _The velvet glove_ , Clark would say.  ”I wasn’t offended.  I was merely curious… you seemed to really need to know about my friend’s sexuality, and men  _usually_  only happens for two reasons — you’re either afraid you’re being hit on by another man or you’re asking out of a personal interest in the matter.  Perhaps I wondered which one it was.”  And that would be the iron fist.  

"But you may be right," she continued.  "Perhaps another subject is in order."  She took a hearty bite of the food before her.  "I feel like all we’ve talked about is me.  And Clark, of course.  Why don’t you tell me a bit about you?"

===

He decided that he didn’t like Lois Lane. But of course, Brucie still had to be enraptured by her. And somehow, he had to find a way to get her to lay off on the reporter-mode and be more like…Well, every other girl before her. They were so much easier to deal with. Then again, any challenge worth conquering is a challenge well met.

Bruce swallowed a small bit of food while he contemplated his options. “I’m fairly certain anything I could say in response, you probably already know. So I’m going to give you an off the record—” he raised his eyebrows sternly “—chance to ask about anything specific that you want.” He prepared a list of possibilities in case this turned into another attack on his sexuality. She seemed very, very determined to pin him as interested in Clark. Bruce might have been, at one point, but that broke apart with his tracking device weeks ago.

And besides, Brucie was straight.


	4. Chapter 4

She raised her eyebrows and nodded.  She noticed how he carefully sidestepped the questions about his sexuality, refused to even deny or pretend to be shocked by what she was implying.  Interesting.

"You make everything sound so cold and precise and… businesslike," she said lightly.  "Is this a date or an alarm clock?"  She took a bite of her vegetables.  "But I guess I will take you up on that.  What is it you do when you’re not squiring the prettiest girls around town or making appearances for your business?  You must have some hobbies."

===

"Mm, lots," Brucie replied earnestly. "Ever been parasailing? It’s my latest obsession. There’s nothing quite like it." He thought about jumping from a ledge with his cape caught in the wind, and something approaching a real smile might have come across his face. It was quickly swallowed by Brucie’s wide alluring grin. "I bet you’d love it."

===

Lois watched him and couldn’t help smiling at his words.  ”That does sound fun, but I’ve never been.  I’m more the jumping out of planes type — once or twice I’ve even had a parachute.” 

===

"Really? You’ve voluntarily gone skydiving?" Brucie looked astonished. "See, that, I would never do. At least with parasailing the only thing that can happen is you fall into the water."

 

===

She shrugged.  ”I guess I’m a bit of a risk taker.  And up till now, I’ve been pretty lucky.”

===

"No kidding. Word is you’ve practically got Superman in your pocket, though I’d wager it’s less out of profession than it is so much as friendship." He worked his face bashfully. "It makes a man wonder what sort of competition he has."

 

===

She shook her head and smiled.  ”You have no reason to worry.  Superman and I are just friends.”  With a little sigh, she added, “Besides, I hardly think he has time for dating.”

===

 _Interesting_ , Bruce thought. Lois and Clark were “just friends;” Clark was gay. Of course Superman would be gay by extension, but whether or not Lois knew seemed to be hidden in the words she spoke. Yet he couldn’t find enough evidence to put probability one way or the other. 

"Between rescuing cats and saving the world? I doubt it." he said. "Though it begs the question: what would  _you_  do if you had Superman’s powers?”

===

"That sounds like something you’d ask a person on their college essay!" Lois exclaimed with a laugh.  Then, pausing to consider this, she shook her head and said, "But, I really couldn’t say what I would do.  I suppose I’d try to do what  _he_  does — help people and inspire them to do better.  I’d probably fall quite short though.”  

Then, raising an eyebrow, she asked, “How about you, hm?  What would  _you_  do with Superman’s powers?”

===

Brucie smirked coyly. “Well I  _wish_  I could say the same, but I’d be a liar if I didn’t add that I’d want to have my own fun, too. I mean, the guy’s a saint. Makes you wonder how he does it, huh?”

===

"I think he  _likes_  to do it,” Lois replied.  ”And I’m grateful that he does.  But I guess I know what you mean about fun.  As far as I know, he doesn’t have much chance to unwind.”  The with a mischievous glance she asked, “But I have to admit… you’ve piqued my interest.  What would you  _really_  do for fun if you were in his position?”

===

"Mm, woo women, be the star of a party." He put on a little doe-eye look when he added, "Take you out skydiving whenever you wanted."

===

"Really," Lois said with a smile.   _Oh, he’s good_.

"And you suppose you could keep up with me?" she asked.

===

"Even with super powers, I’d be a fool to say I could keep up with you," Brucie said. "Though perhaps that’s the wrong way to look at it. Perhaps it’s not so much about ‘keeping up’ as it is knowing how to follow." He blinked once, and an alluring smolder materialized. He wore it somewhere between boastful and subtle, dropping his voice to a low key as he finished, "Knowing exactly what the other wants."

===

Her eyes widened slightly at the innuendo, but she quickly reigned herself in, smiling and shaking her head.  ”You are terrible.  Truly.  But if the rumors about you are true, you’re terrible in a very  _good_  way.”

===

"Oh are they? I hadn’t noticed."

Brucie watched Lois, eyes lidded and a small smile pushing at the corners of his mouth. He put a small twirl of food in his mouth and continued to hold his doe-eyed gaze. She really was pretty, for a girl, at least. And violet eyes were a rare occurrence. He played with the statistics in his head, and that brought an added level of comfort to his expression. It was always important to put as much realism as possible into these things.

===

If Lois didn’t know any better, she’d think she was about to blush.  But she didn’t blush, not at corny lines like that anyways. Because it was certainly a line.  They’d all been lines.  She expected as much.

But… she was intrigued by him, because he was an exceptionally difficult man to read.  He flirted with her, but plied her for information about other men.  He gave her looks that said “I’m genuinely interested in everything you’re saying” but was deliberately vague in his every remark.

But still.  He was awfully handsome and charming… and he did know how to show a girl a good time.

And hell, he had a reputation… he may as well get a chance to live up to it.

"You know, Bruce," she said quietly, "I’m afraid I’m not as hungry as I thought.  We may as well get out of here."

===

Bruce dropped his look. “Are you sure?” he asked, quickly replacing his expression. “We haven’t even had their dessert yet. It’s a kind of steamed bread with liquid sugar in the middle.” But even as he spoke Brucie was back in control, standing from his chair and offering to help Lois out of hers. All trace of his confusion had vanished with his movements.

===

"Dessert is fattening," she replied, all sincerity.  Taking his hand, she raised an eyebrow and said, "Let’s burn a few calories instead."

 

===

Brucie grinned nothing but the toothiest grin he could muster. The meal had all been paid for in advance, and a quick nod to the hostess had her paging his driver in the lot.

Bruce knew exactly what was expected of him. He could see how this night would go down in all meanings of the phrase, and he was, like he had been every time before, completely prepared to do it. It was nothing new for him. It was just another role whose shoes he filled when duty called.

And then he remembered a night in Kasnia not too long ago, when he was in the company of a man whose biggest secret was his favorite food, and he himself thought that maybe this time it could be different.

"Listen, Lois," Brucie said. (Or was it Bruce?) "Tonight has been fabulous, and please, believe me when I say I would love to do it again. But…" He glanced at the car pulling around, letting out a hot breath into the night air. Then he bowed his head slightly and looked almost ashamed. "I know I have a reputation, and I’m sorry if this ruins things between us, but you are an amazing woman. And I’d like to give it — this — an actual shot. A real shot. I guess what I’m trying to say is, I’d like to do things right this time and take it slow. I’d like to actually get to know you before I bed you."

===

"Oh," Lois said, nodding.  Then, putting on a smile, she said, "Well, sure.  That’s… I mean, that’s fine, of course."  It was humiliating, actually, but who was counting?  "I’m flattered.  I’d love to get to know you."  And even as she said it, she had to doubt that even if they went on a hundred such dates she’d get to know him.  

"You’ll give me a call sometime?  Next time you’re in Metropolis?"

===

That didn’t go over the way he wanted, Bruce decided. It was meant to be romantic or charming, but obviously Lois wasn’t into that. 

Brucie did his best to placate her with a smile. “Well turns out I’m in Metropolis tomorrow, the day after, and perhaps a few days after that, too. Mind if I call you then?”

===

She nodded and smiled weakly.  ”That sounds great.  I can’t promise I’ll be available, though.  But you’re welcome to call anyways.”

===

"I’ll be a pest, with an invitation like that." The driver came around opened the passenger door. "He’ll take you home," Bruce said. "Good night, Lois." And then he pecked her on the cheek, lingering just barely long enough to suggest a desire for more.

 

===

Lois looked out the window as she was driven back to her apartment.  That date was… awful.  Sure, it had started well enough, but that man hadn’t been a bit more interested in her.  He’d made a show of looking and acting interested, but that hardly seemed genuine now.  If it had been genuine, she wouldn’t be dying of embarrassment and alone right now.

She couldn’t help thinking back to the night in Gotham.  She knew Clark well enough to know that he wouldn’t flirt so shamelessly if he hadn’t felt encouraged.  And Bruce may have said and done all the right things with her, but Clark had gotten more of a reaction out of the so-called playboy with one well-timed smile than she had by practically inviting him to have sex with her on the table of that restaurant.  Even that night in Kasnia, the first time they had met, Bruce had gone out of his way, seemingly to spend time with Clark.  Never before this day had he noticed her beyond the dictates of polite society, and it was all as plain as the rarefied air breathing nose on Bruce’s face.  The only explanation she could land on was that he was using her to send a message to Clark.  

The only thing she couldn’t quite figure was if he wanted to make a big show of his supposed heterosexuality or if he wanted to make Clark jealous.  Either way, she felt like a fool.

But that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to play along.

===

Bruce watched the car until it was gone. He started walking. In his mind he went over each and every possible line he could use to show up at her place and flip the situation around, to put it back on track for what was expected of Brucie. And then he imagined Lois’ reaction and none of it was worth it.

 _Damn it_ , he thought. He let himself get in the way, and that was beyond foolish. What was he expecting to get out of it, a sticker from Superman? Gold star for the week? Bruce felt his face begin to twist. He needed to  _focus_. He needed to remember what he was doing with his life and why it was so important.

Bruce stopped at the corner, waiting for the light to turn. He pulled in a deep, penetrating breath, one that filled every corner of his lungs and with it, he exhaled all of his doubts. 

He missed his mom and dad.

But that wouldn’t bring them back. Nothing would ever bring them back. All he could do was to make sure no other child had to grow up feeling empty and hollow. _  
_

The train went by overhead. Bruce stiffened his face and watched the light turn green. Metropolis or not, he knew what he had to do.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

For over a year now, Lois and Clark had had an unspoken agreement that they would talk every night before bed.  Sometimes Clark was busy so it would be a quick text “Goodnight XO” but sometimes it was a long conversation about the day that had just passed and what they hoped would happen in the coming day.  And sometimes one of them would go on a date, and the expectation was that no detail would be spared in the discussion of a date.

But as Clark looked at the time on his cell phone and grumbled about how annoyingly quiet the city was that evening, he had to admit that he wouldn’t mind if he never heard a single detail about Lois’s date for this particular evening.  But his phone rang all to soon, so he knew he wasn’t going to be that lucky.  He muted the  _Cheers_  rerun he was watching on TV and picked up.

"Hello?" he answered, as if he hadn’t checked the caller ID before he picked up.

"Hey," came Lois’s voice on the other end.  "Just wanted to let you know that I’m in for the evening."

He almost said, “Thank God,” but he stopped himself.  ”Okay,” he said instead.  ”A bit early, isn’t it?  Did you have fun?”

She hesitated.  ”It was fine.  He took me to this Mongolian place.”

"And I’m sure he paired the delicious food with dazzling conversation," Clark commented.

She laughed.  ”As a matter of fact, he did.  He’s very interesting.  But of course, you know that already…”

"Lois," he began warningly.  "Don’t start that again."

She snorted.  ”Start what?  I’m hardly going to try and set you up with a man I had such a lovely evening with.  I’ve got enough competition without adding you to the mix.”  If they had been in the same room, she would have seen him roll his eyes and she’d have slapped his arm.  But since he was silent, she continued, “You know, he asked about you.”

This time it was Clark who snorted.  ”I’m sure he did.”

"He did!" Lois insisted.  "I was as surprised as you are, but he did ask.  And he wasn’t just inquiring after your health because he’s got good manners."

Clark had to admit that his interest was piqued.  Why should Bruce — Batman — ask about him?  He seemed to pride himself so on already having all the answers.  ”What did he ask?”

"He asked if you were gay," Lois responded.

"And what did you say?" he asked.

"What do you think?" Lois responded with a laugh.  And okay.  That was fine.  Batman knowing that he liked boys was actually the least of his worries as far as that man was concerned.

Clark sighed.  ”Whatever you’re thinking, you’re dead wrong.”

"What happened between the two of you?" she asked.  "You were so keen, and now you get all tense the minute anyone mentions his name."

"I  _wasn’t_  keen and I’m  _not_  tense,” Clark insisted.  ”And nothing happened.  Don’t borrow trouble.”

She laughed.  ”If you say so.  But listen, Bruce said he’s going to call me again while he’s in town… and I’ll probably go out with him again.  Do you want me to see if I can get any information out of him that might be useful to you?  You know I’m good at that.”

"It would actually mean the world to me if you just dropped it," Clark replied.  But even as he said it, he knew that wouldn’t happen.  He knew Lois well enough to know that she’d keep at him and Bruce about this every chance she got, like a dog with a bone.  Relentless, that woman.

===

It was a long walk back to his hotel. Bruce was more than happy to shed his formal clothes for something far more casual and comfortable. Not that his suits were anything but fine silk and cut like a second skin, but there wasn’t anything quite like a simple pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt.

The first thing he did was attach his earpiece and call Alfred.

"Good evening, sir. How was you date with Miss Lane?"

"I need you to order flowers for tomorrow," Bruce said.

Alfred’s face read  _That bad?_  in every corner. “Of course, sir. Shall I have a message prepared as well?”

"No, just the flowers." Bruce set himself up on a kitchen bar stool and laid his laptop in front of him. 

"Very good, sir. Will that be all?"

"Yes, thank you."

Alfred said his goodbye and the line disconnected.

Bruce put his full attention on the work in front of him. First, he dug into the victim’s history. Train conductors weren’t assassinated simply because they could be. Yet the guy was clean: he didn’t even have so much as a crooked friend or an ex-con coworker. Then Bruce dug into the MetroTransit’s files for who was on board. Most of the passengers now used electronic payment methods — very handy for situations like this — but there were still roughly a third who used cash.

Bruce folded his hands together and propped his chin on them. The Bat computer back in Gotham did its thing, and he mentally compiled his own list of the obvious targets in Metropolis. If he could find the real target, he could figure out who hired the assassin. If he figured out who hired the assassin, he could find the assassin himself — or herself. He couldn’t assume either way.

But something wasn’t right. Bruce narrowed his eyes at the possible results being sent to him, which his algorithms never gave more than a 27% chance of likely involvement. He couldn’t help but agree as he reviewed the files. None of these people screamed “assassinate me,” though he saved the names of the top five to do more intense digging with later.

He donned his cape and cowl. Right now, there was a crime scene going cold.

===

When he had gotten Lois off the phone, he went out onto the balcony of his apartment and looked out over the skyline.  He wasn’t sure what to make of anything Lois had said.  He could tell by her tone that was was planning to keep seeing Bruce until she could find out if there could be something between him and Clark… but that wasn’t necessary.  He loved her for trying, but there was no way to explain that not only had that ship sailed, but she had probably misinterpreted Bruce’s interest in Clark all together.  Anything he asked would be for Batman to gather information on Superman.

And right now, while Clark was sitting on his balcony taking in the breeze and the evening stars, it occurred to him that Batman, the original Mr. Stay-Out-of-Gotham, was skulking around in  _his_ city doing God knows what.  The tag in his t-shirt itched at the back of his neck, and he took it as a sign.  He should be out there tonight… and every other night the vigilante insisted on staying in Metropolis.

He quickly shed his t-shirt and jeans and donned his uniform.  Perhaps it wouldn’t turn out to be a quiet night after all.

===

First he stopped at the coroner’s officer. It wasn’t exactly hard to get in, and looping the cameras was even easier. Metropolis may be the city of tomorrow, but its locks and security were the relics of yesteryear.

Batman found out that they pulled an unknown caliber bullet out of the body, though early speculations put it somewhere between the .308 Winchester and 300 Win Mag. Heavy duty sniper round, obviously, and clearly it took its queues from military weapons. The sharpshooter might be ex-military himself.

Next he went to the remnants of the crash. The train itself was still sitting there, though most of the damages were already close to being fixed. The city moved fast, he’d give them that. If he wanted to see the crime scene in its entirety he’d have to find the photos in the station.

But the conductor’s cab was still very much the same, blood and all. Batman turned on his visor and used the splatter pattern to figure out where the conductor had been, and he recalled where he saw the bullet wound on the body. Then, using a special laser, he held it in place and shot it straight through the hole in the glass. Through his visor he could see exactly where the sniper had been perched.

A security guard stomped his way down the tracks. Batman was gone by the time he checked on the cab, grappling up to the building in question.

===

He figured that Batman would be on a rooftop somewhere.  He’d be chasing some gang and would say he was justified in being in Metropolis because these criminals had once passed through Gotham or some such nonsense, therefore making it his business.

He flew over in the direction of the train tracks and thought about the poor  conductor who had died, and his family.  No matter how much Clark was able to do, how fast and how strong he was, it would never be enough to save everyone or help everyone.  That had been the hardest thing to accept… and even though he had accepted, it didn’t take away the regret he felt any time something like this happened.

But when he glanced over the tracks, he saw Batman grappling over to a nearby building.  Clark’s face set in determination as he thought back to every encounter he’d had with Batman thus far.  The two of them still had a few things to talk about.

"Batman," he began, coming to hover near, but not  _too_  close to, the man.  ”How nice of you to pay our fair city a visit.”

===

"Superman," Batman said curtly. He didn’t even glance away from the scene before him. He could easily see the scuff marks in the pigeon crap where the rifle had been set up. His eyes swept out over the distance to the tracks, and he found three separate cloths — two American flags and one advertisement — that could have been used to judge the wind at the time of murder.

===

Lois was lucky if she had gotten conversation at all from this guy, let alone  _dazzling conversation_ , like she had bragged.

"I have to say," he continued.  "I was surprised when I found out you were going to be in town.  Yet here you are, so far from Gotham.  I won’t ask why, because there’s no reason for me to waste my breath.  I’ll just say that I don’t want you here anymore than you want me in Gotham."

===

Batman crouched over a spot and examined it with multiple settings on his visor. “Your assassination case isn’t holding much water,” he said plainly. He reached out with a gloved hand and touched something as if the contact would give him more information.

===

Had he heard that correctly?  Actually, better question — had Batman heard  _him_  correctly?  But then again, of course he had.  He was always hyper aware of everything.  It made Clark the tiniest bit uncomfortable.

"You’re unbelievable, you know that?" Clark demanded, crossing his arms.  "You just show up here and throw yourself into the middle of this open police investigation.  And you’re just going to stand there like a damned brick wall and pretend you don’t even hear me talking to you.  God, and as heavily as you played that ‘stay out of Gotham’ card."  He lowered his voice on the word Gotham and wrinkled his nose.  "You just show up here, all high and mighty and so proud of yourself.  And don’t think I can’t tell that  _every_ thing you’re doing, everything you’ve  _done_  since you’ve been in town, has just been to piss me off.”

===

 _That_  won Superman a curiously accusative look from Batman. “The world doesn’t revolve around you,” he said, one harsh breath away from anger. Superman had no right to come at Bruce like that, he had no idea —

Bruce cut off his own thoughts. No, he would  _not_  go down that route. He had to stay focused.

"450 yard target, unknown caliber bullet used. The victim, Omar Wagner, didn’t have so much as bad credit worth killing over." Batman stood to his feet, letting his cape fall around him. "The rifle was propped up here—" he pointed to the ledge "—and the killer kneeled right behind it. And something else was here." He pointed to a spot beside the encampment. There were obvious signs of something having been dragged through the pigeon feces to that point. "Can you see anything I may have missed?"

===

He landed lightly on the rooftop, a careful distance away from Batman and sighed heavily.  ”I didn’t mean…” he began before cutting himself off.  Because he didn’t know what he meant anymore.  This guy just had a knack of pissing him off… of getting extreme reactions from him in general.

He shook his head and refocused, because… that was new.  Batman was talking to him about this investigation, willingly bringing him into this.  Their involvement in the past had been reluctant, especially on Batman’s part.  Maybe it was just because this was Metropolis and Superman was already involved.  It was likely that Batman thought this would be a better approach than trying to keep Clark out, but whatever the reason, Clark recognized that he may as well accept it with as much grace as he could manage.

He cleared his throat and looked around him quickly but carefully before tapping into his x-ray vision.  Nothing seemed particularly out of place.  ”I think you were pretty thorough… I’m not seeing anything else.”

===

"Hm." Batman looked around the rooftop. Access door thirteen paces away, multiple other options for people with even moderate skills.  _Unknown caliber bullet_ , why was that stuck in his mind? Custom weapons may seem like a romantic idea, but the reality of it was that they were far too costly, and then what did you do once you ran out of ammo? Use a standardized weapon and there’s a good chance you’ll find some in the field, if even one other enemy is using the same gun.

No, whoever did this was not in it for the romance. There was a purpose behind the bullet, there was a purpose behind killing a train conductor. And this scene…it was obvious. He knew kids in Gotham who could make a less conspicuous roosting spot, to be frank. It was almost as if—

Something glinted and caught Batman’s eye. He furrowed his brows and faced the anomaly. It probably wasn’t much, maybe just car lights catching some object…in a window, two streets over. A darkened window. Office building, no lights on. He pulled out a small pair of binoculars and focused on it.

Batman’s body froze for what felt like an eternity. The pieces fell together in his mind: the weapon used a custom bullet because that bullet  _wasn’t_  the intended ammunition. That was a practice run, but it served a second purpose. The sniper was hoping the real victim would come investigate, and thanks to Bruce, he had.

He felt his body moving before his mind even came out of its daze. He crashed into Superman, shoving him out of the way. Then there was a pressure in his side followed by searing-hot  _pain_.

He needed to focus. “Take cover!” Bruce shouted. He could feel the foreign object embedded in his side like a rock between his ribs. It hurt every time he breathed. Vaguely, he was aware of how much green was radiating from the wound.

===

It took him a moment to realize what was happening.  It was a little bit surreal.  At first, he couldn’t stretch his mind around why Batman would take a bullet for him.  Not only did he not like him, but it wasn’t necessary.  But it had happened, and Clark felt a surge of emotions, not the least of which (and definitely the easiest to identify) was gratitude.  

But he didn’t have time to think… he had to see what he could do to help Batman… or Bruce.  Whichever one of them that had pushed Clark aside.  

As he shifted Batman’s injured form just a tad, he saw the eerie and unforgettable green glow coming from his side.  Bruce had realized just in time what was happening, and… he was now bleeding and in pain because of it.

"Ohmygod," he muttered, placing a slightly trembling hand gently on Batman’s side, getting blood on his fingers, which were startlingly pale against the red of the blood.  "You carry first aid supplies, don’t you?  Because I think I’m going to have to get that bullet out of you."

===

Bruce snarled with everything but actual fangs. “ _Cover_ ,” he repeated, shoving Clark’s hand towards the access door. “I have no idea how many rounds he has in that thing.”

A wind picked up just as the second bullet barely missed them both.  _More than one_ , he thought wryly. His next thought was how long until the poisoning set in for Clark.


	6. Chapter 6

"Well excuse me for wanting to help you," Clark said in exasperation.  He kept his head low.  "But that really does need to come out… it may not affect you the way it affects me, but trust me when I say it isn’t good for you, either."

He looked at the access door and wondered if they could make it without catching the sniper’s eye, considering that Batman was injured and he was beginning to feel unsteady.

===

Bruce followed Superman’s gaze. It wasn’t hard to tell what he was thinking. He clung to Superman’s arm. “Move fast.” Pain laced with his breath. It wasn’t exactly wise to move when he was compromised like this, but then again, neither of them could withstand a headshot from those bullets.

===

He gave a nod and supported Batman as best he could as they made their way to the access door.  Another bullet whizzed by, dangerously close.  Once they were behind the door, Clark could exhale.  ”That definitely felt personal,” he mumbled.

===

Bruce slumped to the floor. “How many enemies do you have?” he asked, mostly rhetorically. He reached across his belt for the first of two medical capsules. From that he pulled out a multipurpose tool that made Swiss Army Knives look like toys, and a small bottle of alcohol. The items were placed in his lap while he went for a compressed packet of gauze, a needle, and medical stitching thread. “Are you alright? Can you still use heat vision?”

 

===

"I think so," he said.  He balled his hands into fists to steady them and watched Batman pull supplies from his utility belt.

===

Bruce eyed Superman cautiously. “Good,” he said, squirting alcohol on either side of the multitool’s blade. “Same thing as Kasnia.” He pressed it into the wound and began to pry.

Compared to actually being shot, this was worse. Adrenalin got him through most of that, but the alcohol was an overpowering sting. Still, at least he didn’t have to go too far. He wasn’t coughing up blood, which meant his lungs were fine, and he never had to bury the knife completely to get the green bullet to clatter on the ground. Before he did anything else, he snatched it up and dropped it into a half-empty capsule. He had lined most of them with lead since their last meeting.

Bruce twisted and, placing a finger on either side of his wound, pried it open again to give Superman a clear shot for cauterization.

===

It was difficult to watch him work, mostly because Clark could only imagine how painful it was, and he didn’t react.

He was relieved to see him put the kryptonite bullet away.

When Bruce was ready for him to do his part, he warned, “This will hurt… so I’m sorry in advance.”  He gave a quick, careful blast of his heat vision.

===

Bruce gnashed his teeth and watched the skin crust over. His hands were quickly wiping up blood and putting tools away shortly after.

"Use your X-ray vision— is the sniper still out there?"

===

He squinted into x-ray vision and looked around the whole area and didn’t see anything out there anymore.  ”No,” he answered.  ”It looks like he must have taken off.” 

===

Damn it! Batman put away the needle and thread; he didn’t have time. With everything secure he went back outside and made straight for the office building. If that sniper got away now there was no telling when or where he’d resurface.

===

Clark followed Batman out and shook his head.  ”You just got shot.”  But there was no point in following that statement with,  _hey, perhaps you should sit down_  or  _are you sure you’re up to this?_  because those remarks would fall on deaf ears.

 

===

Batman hefted his grappling gun and shot it across the street. Fresh, unadulterated pain shocked his side as he swung over, and landing in the still open window was doubly jarring because of it. The sniper would have left in a hurry, maybe he left something, anything behind. Even a scrap of cloth Batman could work with.

There was nothing. The carpet showed signs of the other  _something_  the sniper had with him, though: a box was indented near the window.

Batman glanced up at the ceiling and found two broken cameras.

Rage boiled inside of him. Without even thinking he slammed the butt of his fist into the window sill and took off through the building. The sniper couldn’t have gotten far, not unless he was as much of a professional that every sign indicated. Batman made his way back down to street and tried to think, tried to focus, but  _damn it_ , there was  _nothing_!

He wanted to scream. He wanted to shout. He forced that all away with three steady breaths, and he became aware of the fact that in his haste he had managed to rip part of the cauterized flesh already. 

In short, Batman had failed. And Superman had had front row seats for the whole thing.

===

He landed beside Batman.  He really had to say something now.  ”You’re obviously in pain,” he began.  ”And you’re hurting yourself even more by pushing too hard.  You need to go and catch your breath.  No shame in that.”

===

Bruce snorted. Loathe as he was to admit it, Superman was right. He needed to actually treat this wound or he’d never hear the end of it from Alfred— the man would start feeding him cold cuts and prepackaged coffee in spite.

With one final calming breath (and the wince that came with it) he stepped into Superman’s space, saying, “1st Radison on 15th, penthouse suite.” Because there was no way he was going to grapple the whole way back.

===

He tried to determine which way to carry the man that would hurt less and be the least awkward.  But he realized that Batman would be unhappy any way they did this, so he’d have to settle for getting there quickly.  

Bridal style was absolutely out of the question, and if they were face to face, he’d have to hold onto his side and that would hurt more than was necessary.  So he figured the easiest way would be for Clark to support him from the other side and let him grab onto him.

"Hold on," he said.

===

Bruce wanted to pinch the bridge of his nose. He closed his eyes as he exhaled. “Just pick me up and get me back to my room,” he said. “I don’t have time for sensitivity right now.”

===

"As you wish," he said dryly.

He scooped Batman into his arms and flew off towards the hotel.

===

Bruce let himself down as soon as they were over the outdoor Jacuzzi patio. The door to the suite was open.

The penthouse was every bit a large and spacious area as one would expect. The living room area bled into the kitchen, which had a marble counter top for the divider and bar stools for seating. Bruce’s laptop was still sitting there, lid closed. Off to the right there was a small hallway that lead to both the master bedroom and the guest bedroom, and at the end of the hallway stood the washer and drier. Bathrooms were attached to the bedrooms.

"I’ll need you to go over your most recent arrests," Bruce said, taking off his boots before stepping off the mat laid just inside the door. He hauled them to the master bathroom with him, stopping at a second computer along the way to double check the security and soundproofing systems. Then he pushed back his cowl, pulled off his gloves, and worked on stripping the rest of his armor from the waist-up.

There was a bigger and more well-stocked medical kit under the bathroom sink. Bruce examined his wound in the mirror before reaching for it. “As well as your more high-profile enemies,” he continued. “We need to figure out who wants you dead enough to pay for an assassin like that.”

===

Clark thought for a moment.  ”All the most recent run-ins I’ve had were with small time criminals — a couple of armed robberies, a drug dealer, an aggravated assault.  I can’t imagine any of them would have the resources to orchestrate something like this.”  

He paced the floor in the living room.  ”And as for high profile enemies, I think the two that’d be most likely to be willing to spend the money for something like this would be your pals Bruno Manheim and Lex Luthor.”

===

Bruce sighed. “I don’t have super-hearing, Superman. And don’t even think about yelling.” He lightly wet some gauze and began cleaning up. 

===

"You know," Clark began, walking towards the doorway to the bathroom, "For such a sulky guy, you sure can be a smartass."  

Then, with a sigh, he continued, “I simply said that none of my recent arrests would have been able to pull this off.  The most likely suspects, in my opinion, are Bruno Manheim and Lex Luthor.”

===

Bruno Mannheim, now there was a name with plenty of motive. Bruce looked over at Clark, preparing to elaborate on how to attack that angle, when his words lost themselves on his tongue. Here he was, half-naked, with Superman in his room. Superman, who had…The memory waved in front of Bruce. Superman had touched him, had tried to cover his wound. It seemed oddly intimate in retrospect. 

Or maybe he was just reading too much into it because, once again, he was letting emotions get in the way. Emotions that considered that curl of hair on Superman’s forehead…perfect.

Bruce cleared his throat. “You might want to wash your hand,” he said. He moved over and tossed the soiled gauze in the waste bin. Next came the burn cream.

===

Clark cleared his throat and glanced down at his hand.  He had completely forgotten about the blood that was now dry on his fingertips.  ”Yeah…” he mumbled, moving towards the sink.

He glanced up into the mirror and watched Batman, as opposed to turning around and looking directly at him.  He knew it was only a matter of time before Batman remembered his extreme distaste for him and used one of his chilly looks to push Clark out a window… so he would be mature and respectful and try not to overstep… and maybe they could work together without being at one another’s throats.

"Is that… are you going to be okay?" he asked.

===

Bruce was acutely aware of the heat Superman seemed to radiate. “I’ve had worse,” he replied. He immediately regretted those words. Memories of Harley hooking him in the shoulder came back. That was before he put so much Kevlar in the armor. He had to push himself to a level of physical endurance beyond what he even thought was beyond, in order to adjust to the new suit.

"Bruno’s got plenty of motive. We’ll have to look into his recent activities, see if he or any of his goons has a large and unexplained transaction." Bruce didn’t expect Bruno to use cash, not when the man thought he was so airtight, but he made a quick plan in case it came to tracking bills.

Squirting antibiotics onto a fresh, larger pad of gauze, he continued, “Not too sure about Luthor. He’s good with his systems, very good. There’s a reason he managed to make LexCorp so powerful.” Bruce applied the pad above the wound, quickly taped it down, then began wrapping an Ace bandage around his torso. His face twitched every time he hand to flex to get it around his back.

===

"Luthor’s got motive too," Clark said.  "His intense hatred for me being a big one."  He raised an eyebrow when he noticed the pained expression on Batman’s face as he stretched around to fix the bandage.

He hesitated a second before asking, “Do you maybe need some help with that…?”

===

"I’ve got it." Bruce frowned as he snapped the metal pins in place. He could imagine, all too easily, what Superman would feel like touching his skin.

Focusing on the med kit, he started putting supplies away and cleaning up. “Why does Luthor hate you? Haven’t heard anything of consequence from the press, but you know how that goes.” He left the box on the sink counter and went into the kitchen, opening his laptop and quickly logging in.

===

He couldn’t help rolling his eyes at that.  Yes, he did know about the press.

The bathroom was large and luxurious, about the size of Clark’s bedroom.  But it felt cramped, almost claustrophobic, with the two of them in there, refusing to look at one another.  Clark wrinkled his nose and moved for the doorway.

"Luthor hates me because he doesn’t trust me," Clark said simply.  "He doesn’t believe that someone from another planet, and with my powers, could possibly be here for any other reason than to take control, conquer, maim… just generally wreak havoc."

===

Bruce thought about it. “Probably because that’s what he would do, if he were in your shoes. Luthor shows classic needs to oppress and dominate, even if he tries hiding it under his philanthropy. In fact, the philanthropy itself is just another way to receive adoration and admiration.” He glanced over at Superman. “Do you eat?”

 


	7. Chapter 7

"Yeah, when I’m hungry," Clark said with a shrug.  "You’ve  _seen_  me eat.”  Although, when he thought about it, Bruce had seen him blush and stare at food… he probably didn’t eat much of it.

===

"Hm." Bruce Worked through the systems on the Bat computer, queuing orders to comb known Mannheim accounts. He looked severe, he looked like he was focused, but internally he was kicking himself in the ass. He was going to offer ordering room service, but there was no logical reason for Superman to stick around anymore. And now that he was coming down from his rush, he felt bone-dead  _tired_.

The laptop beeped twice in rapid succession. None of Bruno’s accounts had so much as a thousand-dollar transaction in the past week, and the largest transaction within the past year was reversed after Kasnia. That left Luthor as the next and only likely suspect.

Luthor, who went running out of the room right before news of the conductor being killed went on air. There was no evidence that the two events were directly correlated, but there was also no reason why they couldn’t be. Not yet. Not with Superman’s life on the line.

Bruce blinked. “You’d be better off leaving here not as Superman,” he said. “The sniper has two options right now: wait until you lower your guard before striking again, which could be months from now, or strike immediately afterwards, expecting you to expect him to wait. Leave as Superman and you’ll be spotted. Leave as Clark Kent, and you can get lost in the crowd.”

===

"So that whole ‘do you eat’ question was another one for your notes on me?" Clark asked, raising an eyebrow.  Then, shaking his head and remembering that he was determined not to antagonize the man, he continued, "And yeah, you’re probably right."

He changed at super speed into the jeans and t-shirt he had stashed in the pocket of his cape.  He pulled his glasses out of his pocket and slipped them on.

"Well, thanks," Clark said, nodding.  "For everything."

===

 _Well I was going to ask if you wanted to order_ —

 _I thought that maybe you might want to_ —

 _You would keep notes if you were_ —

Bruce huffed. None of those would do.

He turned around and felt his breath almost catch itself in his chest. Superman was — Superman  _had_  changed into civilian clothes, and really, it wasn’t fair that one pair of glasses was all he needed to conceal himself. He wondered if the glasses were real, or if Superman had a way to focus his own vision so that he truly did need them.

He had a lot of questions about Superman, he realized.

"Don’t mention it," he said instead. "See you tomorrow, Kent."

===

 _Tomorrow_.  There was an interesting prospect.  He pushed his hair back, smoothing the spit curl back into place with the rest of it and gave a nod.

"Right," he said.  "Bye."

And he headed to the door.  He’d walk back to his apartment, grateful for the cool night air.  He needed it.

===

Bruce ended up combing through STAR Labs files and finding various Superman-related projects to read up on. Lead-lined hazmat suits, special material for his civilian clothing (that’s how he got it all compacted and stored  _somewhere_ ; Bruce didn’t see where), and quick—  _quick,_  they called it — trips to various satellites and the moon were all in there.

He read until the sky was light, then he went about putting everything away. When he finally did go to bed, he dreamed about the stars.

&&&

Alfred had apparently taken the liberty of calling the hotel’s room service on his behalf, because he woke up to sound of someone knocking. Bruce was up and awake in seconds, and he opened the door as though he had gotten more than five hours of sleep.

"Thank you, just what I needed this morning!" he said. He gave the girl a $50 tip.

It was very much an English breakfast that was laid out before him. Bruce checked emails, text messages, and his voice mail, the lattermost was left by Alfred:

"Your flowers will be delivered to Miss Lane’s office at around nine AM. You purchased an assortment of color and variety because you couldn’t decide, though I was sure to request the violets near the center. Good luck, Master Bruce."

Bruce smiled. He checked the time on his phone and saw that it was very close to 11:30. If he headed out now, he might just make it in time to take Lois out to lunch.

===

He woke up a split second ahead of the alarm going off, just as he usually did.  After a quick shower, he dressed in one of his work suits and had a cup of coffee.  Today would probably be a busy day for him, and he was going to be prepared for it.

He set out for the day, only facing three emergencies and stopping to pay a visit to the pediatric ward of Metropolis General.  

By the time he arrived at the newsroom, Lois was at her desk, on the phone with a representative from MetroTransit, trying to get an official statement about what was being done for the family of the deceased train conductor.  

When she had hung up the phone, Lois said, “Well, the city’s paying the funeral expenses.  There’s talk of setting up a fund for the two boys — ten year old Robert and six year old Devin — but nothing set in motion yet.”  Then, smiling at Clark, she said, “Good morning, Smallville.”

“‘Morning, Lois,” he said.  

"Aren’t you going to ask me about last night?" she asked.

He smiled.  ”I already know about last night.  You told me all about it.”

"Not in detail," she said in a sing-song voice.  Clark worked very hard on not sighing and looking as perturbed as he felt.  He wasn’t jealous.  He was  _not_.  But before he could try to formulate a response, the elevator door opened, and a delivery man came in.

Clark watched as a big, beautiful bouquet was given to Lois.  ”Guess you did  _something_  right last night,” he commented.  But he had so many more important things to concern himself with than wondering what, exactly, that something might have been.  

Bruce was straight… apparently.  And that was fine, because he was also Batman.

===

Luthor — or rather, Luthor’s secretary called Bruce about the meeting today. Said they had to cancel on account of STAR Labs having second doubts. Brucie made a fuss, said he didn’t want to get stuck in Metropolis for too long, and the woman made her apologies on Luthor’s behalf. Then he hung up on her.

Walking in to the Daily Planet’s lobby, Brucie flashed a bright smile and got a visitor’s badge attached to him. He was dressed casual today, which was to say he was in a buttoned vest with his undershirt sleeves rolled to the top of his forearms, and his hair had been tamed from its post-cowl, post-sleep mess.

Two women and a a red-headed boy hopped in the elevator with him. Brucie winked at one of the girls. She brushed her hair behind her ears, then got off on a floor before him.

The redhead got out ahead of him. Bruce glanced around and quickly found — Clark. Then he found Lois. “Don’t think they used enough tiger lilies,” Brucie said as he slid behind Lois, beaming ear to ear.

===

"Bruce!" she exclaimed brightly.  "What a pleasant surprise!"

Clark looked up quickly and then ducked his head.  It had nothing to do with him.  He wasn’t getting involved.

===

"I told you I’d call," he said. He looked at Clark. "Hello to you, too, Clark. Break any news today?"

===

Clark looked up and forced a smile.  ”No more than usual.  And how about you?  Create any headlines today?

===

"Working on it," he replied. 

Brucie eyed Lois up and down. “Do you always dress like this for work? Not that I’m complaining.” He sucked in a breath to say something more, but was immediately cut off by someone much louder.

"Lois! Kent!" Perry barked, leaning out of his office. "I don’t pay you to sit around— who’s that?"

===

"This is Bruce Wayne, Chief," Clark replied.

"That’s swell," Perry said sarcastically.  "Hello, Bruce Wayne.  Now, you two get out of this office and go find some news out there!  You’re not getting paid to keep your seats warm."

"Sure thing, Chief," Lois said with a smile and a nod.

"And don’t call me Chief!" Perry exclaimed, retreating back into his office.

Clark heaved the smallest sigh of relief.  ”Well, we should probably head out,” he began.  

Lois nodded and gently stroked Bruce’s arm once.  ”Say… if you’re not doing anything, you should come with us!  It’ll be fun.”  Clark’s eyes widened at Lois’s words and… why?  Why was she doing this to him?

===

"I was just about to ask," Brucie said. He couldn’t help the nervous glance at Clark, something almost like he was asking for permission, but he remembered who he was supposed to be and quickly refocused on Lois, guiding her hand into holding his arm. He flexed subtly under her hand. "I actually haven’t seen much of Metropolis, to be honest. Other than the airport and the Wayne offices here. And a few night clubs. Some bars, and uh…Well." He coughed. "Maybe you could show some things I wouldn’t normally see on my own, hm?"

===

Clark couldn’t think of anything that sounded more fun than going on what sounded like a date with Lois and Bruce Wayne.  Well, maybe watching paint dry or sticking his hand in a wood chipper…

"Awesome," Clark said, probably sounding as sarcastic as he felt.

Lois smiled.  ”It  _will_  be awesome.  We can show Bruce the sights and let him see what fast paced lives we lead as reporters.  C’mon, Smallville.”  He stood up and Lois grabbed onto his arm with her free hand.  The three of them headed for the elevator, looking like the picture on the front of greeting card.

 


	8. Chapter 8

"Actually, you know what I’ve always wanted to do?" Bruce suddenly began, and Brucie looked entirely flabbergasted that it didn’t occur to him sooner. "I have never been to Metropolis’ central park. I have always wanted to go there, but I swear, every time I either sleep through the best hours or there’s not enough of them in the day. Do you think we could get lunch there, too?"

===

"Perfect," Lois said.  "We can grab a hot dog or something.  You’ll love it."

"Perfect," Clark echoed.

They rode the elevator down to the building’s lobby and made for the door.  ”C’mon boys,” Lois said.  ”We’re hoofing it.  Park’s this way.”  She jerked her head to the left as they stepped out onto the sidewalk.

===

Bruce flashed a frown on his face. He wasn’t really that unbearable, was he? He thought they were actually getting along at some point. Or was this part of  _his_  act? As much as he knew about Superman, he knew even less about Clark.

"So Lois, you’ve been in Metropolis all your life, right? And Clark, you moved here how many years ago?"

===

Clark had to stop himself from furrowing his brow.  Why was Bruce being so… cordial with him?  Clark told himself he should be trying harder.  He knew he should.  Because Bruce seemed to be trying.  How genuine an effort it was he didn’t know, but he  _was_  trying… and Clark could, and should, do the same. 

"Yep, I’m a lifer," Lois said in response to Bruce’s question.

"And I’ve been here about three years," Clark answered.  "Moved here from Kansas."

===

"So why’d you move out here from Kansas? Seems like a pretty big change," Bruce said. He stopped at a hot dog cart and passed looks between the two of them. "You guys order first, I take forever to decide."

===

Lois ordered a Chicago dog and Clark ordered his with ketchup.

Clark thought for a moment.  ”I guess I just wanted to be where there was…action, for lack of a better word.  And don’t get me wrong, I loved it back home… but I needed to…. spread my wings.”  With a little shrug he added, “And the city just has its own personality… nowhere I’ve ever been has had the energy of Metropolis.”

===

"I’ll have what she’s having," Brucie said to the vendor. It didn’t actually look that appetizing, to be honest, but it was common to mimic the girl’s orders as part of the courtship dance. There was a whole psychology behind it, Bruce recalled every paper he’d read, but none of that changed how much he  _didn’t_  want to eat just then. And yet, like most things, he found himself capable of doing it anyways.

He listened to Clark talk as he went through his first bite. Lois was tugging them along towards the park, clearly just a block and a half away at this point, and despite the food he found himself smiling at the very corners of his mouth.  _Wings and energy, huh_? he thought.

"Say Clark, you ever been skydiving?" Bruce said after he swallowed. "Lois apparently does it as a hobby. I told her I couldn’t imagine ever wanting to do something like that."

===

"Skydiving?" Clark asked.  "Oh, no.  I… don’t have the constitution for it."  He smiled to himself.  "You do seem like you’d keep your feet on the ground."

===

"I do," Bruce said.

"Hey, what about parasailing?" Lois ask incredulously.

"Well that’s different, I have a  _line_  when I do that.” He passed a knowing look to Clark.

"I swear, you boys are pansies. How long do you want to stay in the park, by the way? ‘Cause if we will have to find  _something_  for the evening edition.”

Brucie shrugged, following Lois as she turned down the first path. “I won’t need long. Just—” he winced as a pair of teenagers rushed by, one of them bumping his wounded side. “—long enough to see what all the fuss is about.” He looked around. The place was  _packed_. “Is something…?”

===

Hm.   _Parasailing_.  Clark smiled to himself again.

As they walked off, he happened to look in Bruce’s direction as these two teenagers bumped into him, and he caught the wince on his face.   _Of course_ , Clark thought.   _Why didn’t I think of that sooner?_   Almost instinctively, he went around to Bruce’s other side to provide a buffer, but out of fear of what he would see, he tried not to look into Bruce’s face as he did so.  Out the corner of his eye he did notice a triumphant grin on Lois’s face.

 _Great_.  Now she’s going to keep at this matchmaking business.

"You know what?" Clark said, snapping his fingers, "Today is the day all the local middle schools are putting on their Language Arts Fest."  Kids from the drama clubs of at least a dozen schools were competing by doing readings and performing scenes from famous plays.

"And how do you know about this?" Lois asked, skeptical look on her face.

And since Clark couldn’t tell the truth, which was that, as Superman, he was expected to present the sweepstakes award at the end of the day, he said, “I just… heard about it from a kid in my apartment building.”

===

Bruce let all the air out of his lungs when Clark stepped beside him. “Thank you,” he muttered deep in his throat. Then he swallowed and flung himself back into the role of Brucie.  _Focus, focus, focus_!

"Oh, let’s see some of them," he said quickly. "They say that Shakespeare is best spoken in an American accent, actually. I forget where I heard that."  _John Barton, Shakespearean scholar, 2012_.

As he scanned the crowd, not for the first time, he noticed a little girl, perhaps 3 years old, skipping around before darting off in a bee line for something. There were a pair of siblings glued to their GameBoys, all kinds of neatly uniformed students, and a few officers here and there.

He took a moment to close his eyes and steady his breath.

===

"And you think you’ll be hearing good Shakespeare from a bunch of kids?" Lois asked, slightly amused.

Clark shrugged.  ”Well, we might as well.  If we find ourselves pressed, we may be able to get a story out of this.”  He cast a furtive glance in Bruce’s direction to see how he was doing.  But he couldn’t afford to look too long.

The group that was taking the stage, the Adams Middle School Drama Club, was performing scenes from the second act of  _Much Ado About Nothing_.

===

Brucie laughed, nudging Lois playfully. “If they’re any better than my 9th grade teacher, I’ll give them an award myself.”

He couldn’t stop looking around him. Not that he needed to look, exactly. He was always hyper aware of everyone around him. It was just…a feeling he got. An internal, interactive map that contained the position of every body around him and predicted the movements of those in motion.

His eyes darted when he sensed the girl from before. She was back, biting her finger nail, and looking up at the faces around her. Bruce quickly scanned the crowd and came to a startling conclusion: no one was paying attention to  _her_.

"Eight o’clock, lost girl, brunette," Bruce whispered. Then he dropped his face. "Oh, cra— _amps_!” Brucie almost shouted, looking quite ashamed to have almost-sworn in front of children. He grabbed Clark’s arm. “Clark, I just realized, I left my phone at the Planet. Could you  _please_  go back and get it for me? I’m expecting a call from someone, actually.”

Lois frowned deeply. “I didn’t see you—”

"I had set it down before I talked to you. I was  _avoiding_  a call from someone.” He pushed a smile into place. The sooner Superman got to that kid, the better. It wasn’t like he, a strange and imposing man, could just walk up to her. Not with the sort of lectures they gave kids these days.

===

Clark nodded.  ”Uh, sure.  Sure thing.”  Clark made his exit and looked for a suitable place to change.

As he moved, he heard Lois say, “God, you men are so careless.  Clark just had to chase down a taxi cab yesterday for  _his_  phone.”

The nearest bathroom would be full of people, so he had to make his way across the outdoor theater area and to the bathroom over there, which was not only farther away from the theater but also in a sorrier state than the close one.  He knew he had a chance of not being seen in there.  

He practically spun out of his clothes and into uniform and dashed out of the bathroom.  He flew over to the child Bruce had pointed out to him before.  

Her little eyes lit up when she looked at him, whether from happiness or fear he couldn’t tell.  He knelt down and said, “Hi, sweetheart.  Are you okay?  Are you here with your mommy or daddy?”

===

Bruce relaxed when he saw Superman return to the scene. A few other people started looking, and what looked like a teacher took particular notice.

"Oh hey, look at that," Lois said. "Superman, on the job. This’ll probably be a better story than whoever wins." She tugged Bruce around to watch. 

The kid got so excited she started moving her hands and flexing her fingers, mouthing words at Superman. Accidental peeps and squeaks came out, but no sounds that could be taken as words. It was clear she was deaf, if not for the sign language.

Bruce blinked. “Ah, hold on,” he said to Lois, unwrapping himself from her. He took careful strides over, smiling quietly when she noticed him approaching.  _Hi, I couldn’t help but oversee. Are you lost_? he signed at her.

She nodded her head, biting at her nail and leaning towards Superman.

"She’s lost," Bruce said to him. "Do you know ASL?"

===

Clark glanced up at Bruce.  ”A bit,” he responded.  ”But not enough to understand what she’d been trying to tell me.”  

He wasn’t even surprised Bruce knew ASL.  He had given up on being surprised when being impressed and grateful had taken over.  And he couldn’t quite pinpoint when that had happened anymore.

===

"Ah. Okay." He shook his arms before squatting down professionally. "My name’s Bruce, I’ll be translating for Superman," he said, signing the words with his hands. He had to spell out "Bruce" and "Superman," though halfway through the latter she made an  _S_  and put it to her heart.

"Oh, is that the sign for ‘Superman’?"

She nodded again.

"Hey, Bruce, you didn’t tell me you knew sign language," Lois said. Bruce reflexively found himself signing for her.

"Picked it up in school, y’know, rich boy requirements and all," he replied with a grin, hands still working. He looked back to the girl. "What’s your name?" _  
_

 _Latisha_ , she spelled.

"Latisha? That’s a pretty name. Who gave it to you, Mom or Dad?"

She began swirling her hips back and fourth, a smile spreading across her face. She shrugged.

"What? How do you not know?"

Latisha squeaked, then signed,  _They both did_.

Bruce’s his face grew lighter, the lines disappeared around his eyes, and though his lips never moved very far, it was nothing but a smile that they expressed. “I bet. Do you remember where you saw them last?”

 _The candy cart_.

"Which—" Bruce scrutinized the area around them. Hot dogs and pretzels, multiple coolers, and finally, through a break in one of the thickest areas of the crowd, he caught the pastel colors of a cotton candy stand on the next hill over. "Over there?" He pointed.

Another nod.

"Alright." Bruce pushed himself to his feet, careful to put his upper body weight on his left side. "We’ll start there. And hey, ask nicely and I bet Superman will give you a ride. Maybe your parents will see you flying, I bet they’re looking." He finished working his hands and looked at Clark.

Latisha glanced up at Superman apprehensively. She licked at her lips, looked again, and then made a gesture with one hand that read,  _Please_?

===

He smiled down at Latisha and said, “It would be my pleasure.”  He scooped the child into his arms and flew in the direction of the cotton candy stand.

Before he reached it, however, he saw a frantic looking couple who immediately looked relieved upon seeing Latisha in his arms.

"Latisha!" the woman called out.  Superman landed and handed the girl to the grateful looking woman.

"Latisha, don’t you ever run off like that again," the man said, signing at the same time.

The woman smiled at Clark.  ”Thank God you found her Superman.  How will we ever thank you?”

"No thanks are necessary," he replied with a smile.  "I’m just glad she’s okay."

===

Lois sighed beside him. “Now if only the kid were an alien or some secret government robot sent to destroy us all,  _then_  I’d have something I could publish.” She eyed Bruce sideways. “But look at you, Mister Hidden Depths.”

He barely saw her move with enough time to prepare. She elbowed him right on the gauze, the pain went right to his lung, and if it weren’t for his quick mental preparation he would have started nice and grim for everyone. But as it stood, he didn’t even flinch, though every breath after that hurt.

He really needed to go somewhere quiet, he decided. With less touching —  _much_ less touching. Preferably no touching at all, to be honest.

Images flicked through his mind. Bruce didn’t have to tell them no, because they were shut down automatically as they came.

He quickly thought of something Brucie would say. “Why can’t you publish this?” he asked, gesturing to the scene. “I thought all Superman news was news.”

"Puh, maybe two years ago," Lois began, cocking her hips, "but we’ve grown used to him by now. He does this sort of thing all the time. I mean, Metropolis General just had him in this morning and he’s always appearing to stop fires, rescue cats, and catch trains before they crash. You can’t make news off the predictable." She thought about something, then grinned up at him. "Why? Hoping we’ll publish more pictures of that spandex suit?"

Brucie rolled his eyes. “It’s an eyesore.” He already followed two different blogs that tracked Superman more closely than half the world’s media combined. He had been following them for a year, partly to keep tabs on the world’s most powerful man, and partly to keep tabs on the cult that worshipped him. “Besides, I’d rather see a lady in tights. Or fishnets. Think there could be a hero in fishnets?”


	9. Chapter 9

"Not if the rest of us are lucky," Lois said with a smile.

Just then, Clark approached them from behind.  After handing the little girl back to her grateful parents, he had changed back into civilian clothes and quickly snaked Bruce’s phone out of his pocket.

"Here you go," he said with a little smile, offering the phone to Bruce.  "What’d I miss?"

===

"According to Lois, nothing," Brucie said. He swiped his thumb across the locked screen, pretended to check missed calls. "I got to meet Superman, though. Does that make my trip to Metropolis complete?"

===

"I think we still have a few sights you can take in," Clark said casually.  "Though I’m sure meeting Superman was a surprise.  A lot of people who live in Metropolis haven’t even done that."

===

"Well that’s a shame. He’s not a bad guy." Brucie smiled as Lois easily slid her arm back around his. He thought he’d feel more comfortable with Clark walking on that side, but he’d take what he could get. "So what else is there to see? ‘Fraid I’m not a good tourist, I don’t even know what there is."

 

===

 _Not a bad guy_.  Pretty high praise coming from Batman.

"You know.  We’ve got the usual," Lois said.  "Museums, theaters, stadiums, department stores.  Same stuff as in Gotham, just cleaner."

Clark smiled.  ”And you just have to have a meal at the Westbank Riverhouse.  Great soup, and they have this cornbread that’s  _almost_  as good as my mom makes… and that’s high praise.”

===

Bruce cast a sideways looks at Clark. “Please don’t tell me you’re one of  _those_  guys,” he was saying, but internally he was thinking,  _Alfred could blow your mom out of the water_. It put a playful smirk on his face that wasn’t entirely forced. He remembered the Natural History Museum being right off the park and started walking that way. They could find some nice, quiet, secluded exhibit to sit in for a while. That sounded perfect.

===

"If ‘those guys’ means mamma’s boys, he is," Lois said with a smile.  "The biggest one I know."

Clark laughed.  ”That might have been insulting if you hadn’t used that one so many times.”  Then he glanced at Bruce and wondered what he was really thinking.  Did he  _really_  want to see the sights?  Man, if only…

Well, no.  Dangerous line of thought.

Bring himself back to the moment, “But you’re the tourist, Bruce,” Clark went on.  ”What do you want to see?  You name and we can find it.”

===

"Uh, do any of these museums have dinosaurs? Or one of those rooms with stars on the ceiling?" He knew he could find both at the Natural History Museum, and he also knew those were probably the most popular exhibits. Which was a shame, because he honestly did like them for being some of the biggest mysteries left in life. 

===

"We could probably find you a dinosaur or two and some stars at the Natural History Museum," Lois said.

"That’s it just there," Clark added, pointing to the large modern building nearby.  Though he had his suspicions that Bruce knew that.

===

Bruce walked casually towards it. Apparently the museum was closing for the day in an hour, so entrance was free for them. Glancing at a map, Bruce started leading them towards the Ancient Africa room, but before they could even get out of the lobby, Lois suddenly pulled out her phone and made a deal of being surprised by her text message.

"Oh, crap. Listen, I gotta go," she said to Bruce. She was already walking away. "Watch Clark for me, will you? I’ll be right back!"

"Okay, come back soon!" he called after her. Bruce put an expression on his face that he hoped showed how disappointed he should have been, but really, he didn’t mind. Not that he wanted to be stuck "watching Clark." The guy could watch the entire world, he didn’t need Bruce holding his hand.

The moment she was gone, all pretense of Brucie melted away. The Ancient Africa room had all of three people in it, and that was including a janitor and themselves.

"She set that up," Bruce said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He idly walked the perimeter.

===

"Of course she did," Clark agreed.  "Woman’s a brilliant journalist, but she’s no actress."

===

"Mm." Bruce stopped in front of a mask display. "Remind me again why you moved to Metropolis."

===

Clark laughed.  ”What, were you unimpressed by me extolling the virtues of the city and it’s great energy?”  He smiled and shrugged.  ”And I don’t know.  I meant that… I really did.  This is just… where I need to be, I think.”

 

===

Bruce frowned and tried to work it out in his head. How did he really choose Metropolis? He had nothing here. No strings to bind him, family a few hundred miles away. Not that a few hundred miles meant much to Superman. Maybe that was it, he pondered. Maybe it just didn’t matter because he could be anywhere and everywhere.

A wave of homesickness hit him in a second. He needed to be back in Gotham. He had work to do there, and unlike Superman, he couldn’t zip home whenever he wanted.

Bruce moved on.

===

When Bruce didn’t respond to that, Clark wasn’t sure what to make of his silence.  He was never sure what to make of Bruce at all, really.

He had to clear his head.

"So, do you maybe want to sit down for a bit…?" he asked.  "There’s a bench right around this corner."  Hopefully the man wouldn’t bite his head off for that.

===

"Sit down if you want," Bruce said. He planned on perusing a bit more. None of this was anything particularly new to him — some facts he carefully stored away for later — and it was nice to know what a place like this had. No telling when or why someone would want to steal it.

"Why haven’t you gotten Lex convicted yet?" The question was out of his mouth almost the moment it hit his mind. He watched Clark through his prehephiral vision.

===

Clark raised an eyebrow.  He was… that wasn’t trying to pick a fight, was it?   _God, what a frustrating man_ , he thought.   _I can really never tell_.  He didn’t sit down, but he kept a bit of distance from Bruce.

"Luthor is a very rich man and he’s well acquainted with every loophole in the legal system," Clark said calmly.  "He’s as slippery as an eel.  Believe me, it hasn’t been a lack of trying that has Luthor still out and circulating with sane people."

===

Bruce stopped in his tracks.  _With sane people_ , he echoed in his thoughts. 

Edward Nashton, self-renamed Edward E. Nigma, had a  _modus operani_  so rooted in his personality that he could not, under any circumstances, simply commit a crime and not leave a complex clue behind. He had tried going straight twice before giving up. He was powerless against himself.

 _With_ sane  _people_.

Harvey “Two-Face” Dent clung to his own nickname like a lifeline, the last chance he had at maybe doing anything right. He fought so hard just to keep that one 50% chance of doing something right because his demonic half, the insanity that had been dormant his entire life, fought for 100% control.

 _With_ **sane**   _people_.

The Joker didn’t even have a name.

And Clark wanted to compare Luthor to them.

"You don’t know the meaning of insanity," he growled out.

===

 _Well_.  He was picking a fight  _now_.

Clark sighed.  ”Just out of curiosity, are you going to manage to be personally offended by everything I say?”  He was determined not to lose his temper.  He wasn’t going to provoke Bruce.

"And just because Luthor’s your  _business_  associate and knows how to present himself like some great philanthropist hero doesn’t mean he doesn’t also have a side to him that’s more than a little off-balance.”

===

Bruce rounded on Clark slowly, every muscle in his body painstakingly controlled in its manipulation. His face was a blank mask, but his eyes burned bright and furious, all seven Hells contained within.

He stepped towards Clark. “I do not have super powers.” He stepped again. “I cannot shoot lasers from my eyes.” One final step put him directly on the verge of invading Clark’s space. He stopped. “My identity is my only protection. Do not mistake that for friendship.”

He walked out of the exhibit. Maybe he would find some stars after all.

===

Ass.  What a complete braying and kicking ass.

 _Calm.  Stay calm._   

He walked after Bruce a few steps and stood with his arms crossed.  It was only through great will power that he managed to make his voice cold instead of angry when he quietly asked, “And what part of anything I’ve said to you recently would make you think I wanted to be your friend?

===

Bruce froze. The only thing he had left to feel was the burning hole in his side, and even that had receded to such a low thrum that it wasn’t enough.

But he should have expected that. Really, he should have. With everything that happened to them, between every word that was spoken and every glare that was given, how could he have ever assumed something different?

 _I meant Luthor_ , he thought.  _I was talking about Luthor. I was talking about_ Brucie _. I never_ … Bruce scoffed. It was hopeless. None of that would work, none of that would matter. Clar— _Superman_ had already laid his cards on the table.

He threw a bright and gleaming grin over his shoulder, every bit the perfect picture of happiness and warm Kodak moments a person could possibly imagine. “No idea,” Bruce was saying, but he didn’t quite feel like the words belonged in his mouth, nor that his face really mattered to him anymore.

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

Clark bit his bottom lip and glanced at the ground.  Because that smile, that fake grin, made him uncomfortable.  It was so fake… and for a moment he had been standing there talking to him, even if they weren’t nice words, they were real ones.  But that?

 _Yell at me.  Insult me.  Push me back.  Do something.  But don’t just open a can of worms and then leave me here to pick them up by myself_.

"Listen, I  _know_  you don’t like me, and that’s fine… you don’t have to,” Clark said.  ”But you…” He cut himself off, and closed his eyes for a second and sighed.  ”I’m trying to be civil.  It probably doesn’t show, but I am.”

===

"Civil?" Bruce echoed, moving for the exit. "Try acting  _stupid_.” He stepped out of the Ancient Africa exhibit and, recalling the map, turned right. 

Civil.  _‘_ _I’m trying to be civil.’_  If that was Superman’s “civil,” he was right to keep the kryptonite. The man was emotional and prone to anger. It was only a matter of time, really.

===

He sighed heavily.  Okay, so that had been wrong.  He had tried not to provoke, and he’d made Bruce angry.  He’d tried to smooth things over and driven him away.  He’d probably take back almost everything he had said if he could, but that wasn’t how words worked.  But he never knew what to say or to do with Bruce because he never knew where he stood.  He just… he made no sense.  What a study in contradictions.

_The man should come with a road map._

There was nothing he could say now to make things better.  Even an apology, after that exchange, would sound insincere.  So he let Bruce walk and he walked in the opposite direction.  

Pulling out his phone, he sent Lois a quick text message.   _Had to leave the museum.  You may want to come find Bruce._

And then, he followed it with,  _And please don’t ever leave me alone with him again._

_===_

Later, Lois found him staring at a painting from a bench in the lobby. He sucked in a breath and brightened his face in her presence. ”Lois, there you are,” Brucie said, standing.

"Uh-huh." Lois crossed her arms and cocked her hip. "So, what happened?"

Brucie blinked. “Something happened?”

"Uh, yeah. Clark’s kind of mad at you."

"Why?" He furrowed his eyebrows purposefully.

"That’s what I’m asking you!"

"Woah, Lois, calm down," Brucie said, his hands held palm-down in front of him. "I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about. He was just fine, and then he left. If it’s something I said he hasn’t told me, so you’d better ask him."

Lois stared at him furiously. Then she sighed and dropped her arms, rocking her head slightly. “Fine. Listen, turns out Superman’s gonna be presenting an award to the winner of that middle school thing we passed in the park. Jimmy’s already waiting, and if I combine that with the kid thing that happened I might be able to get something back for Perry. I don’t mean to ditch you like this but—”

"Oh, don’t worry. I actually got that call I was expecting." Bruce had gotten another ‘on hold’ notice from Luthor’s secretary, but after some finagling they actually managed a breakfast meeting tomorrow with the express purpose of discussing why everything was on hold. He already knew, but Brucie didn’t. "I was actually going to excuse myself for the day. We could do dinner again, if you’re free?"

Lois looked hesitant. “Sure,” she said quickly. “Eight again?”

"It’s a date." He pecked her on the cheek, and she tried to make her smile look genuine.

Bruce said goodbye to her outside the museum. He called his driver and went back to his suite, where he cracked open his laptop and went straight to the city files. He had plans to make.

===

Later in the office, Clark was going over some notes when Lois sighed and plopped down on the edge of his desk.  ”Hey, Smallville, you want to make a deal?”

He looked up with a smile.  ”Such as?”

"If you retype this for me, because you know you type much better and much faster than I do, I’ll tell you a secret," she replied.

Clark took the pages she was holding out to him with a sigh.  ”Not that I want to hear any secret of yours…”

"Ah, come one," she said with a playful smile, nudging him.  "You know you want to hear about what I’m doing this evening."

Clark shrugged.  ”Actually…”

"Actually," she cut him off, "You were dying to know about the fact that I’m going out with Bruce again."

"Good for you," Clark said, beginning to type a little faster.  He could hit the keys.  That was fine.

"Don’t get pissy, though," Lois said, holding up her hand.  "I’m only dealing with him so I can put in a good word for you."

Clark shook his head.  ”Don’t waste your time.”

She laughed.  ”Believe me, I’m not.  You were practically all he could talk about last night.”  She leaned closer.  ”Clark, that boy may not be singing and dancing in the aisles of the theater like _you_  are, but he’s definitely in the audience.  I’ve seen how he looks at you… it’s nothing like how he looks at  _me_.”

"I have  _never_  sang or danced in the aisle of a theater in my life,” Clark replied.  ”I don’t know where you come up with these things.  And what makes you so sure he’s gay?  He’s seemed pretty interested in all the women I’ve ever seen him with.”

"Oh, don’t be so mid-western," she said, waving her hand.  "I just know things.  Like, for example, I know he’s on your team because… I can just tell.  I’m an investigative reporter.  I get to the bottom of things."  Then, patting his hand, she added, "And one day, when you’ve had a bit more practice, you will too."

Clark rolled his eyes.  ”Well, gay or not, don’t waste your time.  Trust me, there’s nothing there.”  He felt a little pang as he said it and he tried hard to ignore it.

"Right," Lois said, nodding.  "You know, I know sexual tension when I see it."

"That wasn’t sexual tension," Clark insisted.  "It was just regular tension.  That man can barely stand to be in the same room as me."

Lois smiled.  ”Because you make him think things he doesn’t want to.  Now come on, kid.  Just admit you like him and let me work my magic.”  When Clark was silent, she sighed and asked, “So, are you ever going to tell me what happened between you two this afternoon?”

"Nothing happened," Clark answered, a little too quickly.

She nodded.  ”Right.  Same thing Bruce said.  But I know you… you’ve never pleaded with me not to leave you alone with someone before, and you’ve been around a lot of people far more unlikable than Bruce Wayne.”

"I will give you the PIN number to my bank account and just close my eyes if you’ll drop it for once and for all," Clark pleaded.  But he knew that his tenacious and pigheaded best friend would not drop it.  He heaved a little sigh, because things would get messier before they ever got better.

===

 _Wear something casual_ , Bruce texted to Lois. Then he remembered that they hadn’t formally traded cell phone numbers, and while it was easy to say he got her address from the phone book, it was harder to explain having implanted latent backdoor accesses to most cell phone company databases.  _This is Bruce, btw_ , he followed that text with.  _Got your number from your office_.

It took him two hours to figure out his approach, an hour and a half to reprogram three of his devices, and he estimated 18 minutes to get ready for the date. That left a lot of  _time_  on his hands.

The gym satisfied most of it. He couldn’t do much with his upper body, but there were plenty of leg workouts he could do. Afterwards he cleaned out his wound, gingerly tested some of the bubbles that had appeared, and re-bandaged following a shower.

Alfred called the hotel and ordered food for him again, right when he thought he might actually want to eat. Bruce swore that if anyone tried accusing him of being Batman, he’d just point at Alfred and there’d be enough similarities that the case would drag on for months.

Biting off a small corner of his sandwich, Bruce sat down and reviewed his plans for the third time. He had committed them to memory, sure, but there was hardly anything left to do. Not unless he wanted to take another shower before leaving. That was why he hated leaving Gotham the most, really. It was boring everywhere else. Gotham always had something to work on, always had something to fix or puzzle out. 

He frowned, setting the sandwich aside. What would he do when that was all over?

Bruce looked at the clock. He slapped his laptop shut and all but flew to the master bedroom, quickly throwing on a snug, wine-colored button down shirt and tucking it into his jeans. His belt matched the shirt, and he chose a more water resistant watch.

This time, he showed up at Lois’ door right at 8 o’clock sharp, grinning into the peep hole when he knocked.

===

 _Casual, huh?_   Lois had wondered.   _Where could this all be leading?_

She had been considering wearing a pretty black cocktail dress with a red lace overlay, but it wouldn’t count as casual.  There were jeans and things, but men never meant that when they said “casual.”  Hm… well, there was little point in dressing up for  _his_  benefit, anyways.  She settled on a pair of black capri pants and a sleeveless red tunic made of a very lightweight, soft sweater knit.  She painted her nails the same shade of red as her top and then matched her lipstick to them.

As she got ready for the evening, she thought of some way she could include Clark on this date.  But there was really no subtle way.  She was too old to need an escort… and Clark would have tried to squirm out of going with her anyways, even if she begged him.  

 _He_  was the one being stubborn now.  And, for that matter, so was Bruce.   _God, men are helpless_ , she couldn’t help thinking.

When the doorbell rang, she was expecting to see the chauffeur instead of Bruce’s happy face.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, smiling.  "What a pleasant surprise!"   _Tonight is going to be fun._

_===_

He glanced over her outfit, then offered his arm. “Good choice,” he said. “You wouldn’t happen to like magical nighttime dolphin and whale shows, would you?”

===

"Dolphins and whales?" she echoed.  Then with a good natured smile and shrug, she said, "That sounds great."  She took his arm and said, "So… shall we?"

===

"Follow me, my dear." Bruce kept his grin in place as he lead her to the car, which was coming up the street. The driver had apparently needed to circle around the block because of traffic. "So, figure out anything to publish?" he asked hopefully.

===

"Gave ‘em a little Superman news," she answered.  "It probably turned out pretty dull, but it’s a slow news day and you write what you have to."

===

Brucie hummed thoughtfully, then held the door open after motioning to the driver not to worry. “Think there’s any news in a billionaire dating a reporter?” It was just the kind if thing an slightly insensitive Brucie would ask.

 

===

 _Sure, I’m dating you, but not any longer than I have to_ , she thought.

She smiled and hoped it looked genuine.  ”You’re incorrigible.”

===

Clark was right. She wasn’t a good actor.

"I do try. After you." He swept his hand and exaggerated a bow. It wasn’t like Brucie had a good track record, anyways. 

 


	11. Chapter 11

"So where are you taking me?" Lois asked once she was in her seat.  "Or is it going to be a surprise?"

===

Brucie chuckled as he closed the door behind him. He noticed the divider was already up between passengers and driver. “I told you, magical night time whale and dolphin show.” The car rolled smoothly into motion; he barely even felt it. “At the Aquarium, obviously. There’s going to be fireworks, too.”

===

"Oh, you were serious when you said that?" she asked.  Then, with a little laugh, she said, "It sounds fun.  Really.  I feel special — only our second date and you’re already doing unconventional things."

===

"Unconventional happens to be my _modus operandi_.” He settled into his seat and settled his eyes on Lois. His face read as a perfectly alluring look: small smirk, eyes partially lidded, everything else about him calm and reassured. It was a look that had taken, like most things, practice, but in true Bruce style was as flawless as it could be.

 

===

Lois smiled and shook her head.  He was good.   _Too_  good, as a matter of fact.

Playing along, she reached over and gently ran her hand down Bruce’s thigh, watching closely to see his reaction.

===

Brucie’s smirk grew. He reached down and closed his hand over hers, slowly lifting it to his lips. “I thought we agreed to wait on that,” he murmured, right before he kissed her knuckles. Then he worked his way back to the top of her wrist and let his free hand glide along the underside of her arm.

===

She shrugged.  ”Can’t blame a girl for trying.”  That would have stung if she hadn’t expected it.  She slipped her hand away from Bruce and added, “You know, you don’t have to spare my feelings.  If you aren’t attracted to me in  _that_  way, I’m a big girl.  I’ll understand.”  She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and looked up at Bruce, trying to look…  _soft_.  And that was a stretch.

===

He was every bit the kicked puppy when she dragged her hand away. For any witnesses, he looked as though he had been enjoying that.

Bruce forced a sigh as he slid in close to her, sweeping a finger across her cheek and using it hook her chin upwards. “I don’t know, Lois,” he said quietly, eyes already half closed. “You tell me.” He leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers. Brucie may not be one for brains, but he knew how to kiss a girl a hundred different ways in a hundred different locations.

And it was easy,  _so easy_  for Bruce to rationalize every one of Brucie’s feelings. Lois was strong and strong-willed, and she wore her femininity as the rightful weapon that it was. The more he compartmentalized himself the more desire, actual desire, he could pour into his kiss, though it was tempered after a point. Brucie was hungry but polite, impatient yet willing to wait for that one special someone in his life, and his lips said that he thought he finally found her.

===

She let out a little sigh and allowed her eyelids to flutter closed.  That was… that was a nice kiss.  Too nice.

She was going to have to be more careful.  She might actually end up liking this guy.

Lois let this kiss end and pulled back just slightly.  She looked up at him and brushed her hand along his cheek.  ”Thank you, Bruce.  That was… that was lovely.”  With a smile, she said, “You’re actually a very nice man, you know that?”  

She had to take this moment to remind herself that she was  _acting_ , and working under the assumption that  _Bruce_  was acting as well.  But… it was beginning to seem unnecessarily complicated.

===

Brucie looked surprised, briefly. Perhaps a bit confused. “Do you really think so?” he asked, watching her with nothing less than a flicker of hope dancing between his eyes.

===

Lois smiled.  ”Yeah.”  Then, subtly inching a little bit further away from him, she added, “You don’t sound convinced.  Is that not what people  _usually_  think?”  She thought again of Clark.

 

===

He frowned slightly as she moved away. A small compartment of his mind felt relieved. “To be honest, no,” he began hesitantly. Then he put on a very bright, very  _I-Know-You-Know-I’m-Faking-This-One_  smile. “A lot of people don’t exactly see me as the CEO they want Wayne Enterprises to have. And the women I usually find myself with are about as interested in a real relationship as they are ant colonies. It’s…refreshing. Sorry, I didn’t mean to…” He let himself trail off.

===

Lois had issued a challenge and Bruce had been unwilling to back down again.  He was good…  _really_  good.  He’d almost made her lose track of that for a moment… and she was the one in the driver’s seat of this whole crazy ride.  She almost sighed out loud.

She waved her hand.  ”No, don’t apologize.”  She was relieved to be changing the subject.  ”I guess people assume a lot of things about you based on appearances alone.  But I’d imagine they’re surprised when they get to know you a bit better.”

===

 _No one will ever have that_. Bruce swallowed lightly to keep himself from gritting his teeth. A feral defensiveness bit at his emotions, and he focused on keeping his gaze steady on Lois, a soft smile painted on his lips.

The car came to a stop and presently, the chauffeur opened Bruce’s side door. He stepped out first, then held a hand for Lois.

===

She took his hand and said, “Thanks.”  She glanced up at the aquarium and continued, “You know, I haven’t been here since I was a kid.”

===

"Really?" Bruce looked to the building. It was large and impressive, with  _Underwater World_ hoisted in curling font above the main entrance. There was still an hour left to meander through exhibits, but signs for the show they were attending said that seating already started. He wasn’t in a rush.

"My father was more into theatre and opera," he continued, leading the way. "I’ve actually never seen one of these."

===

"My little sister and I used to beg our folks to bring us on the weekends because they had prizes and things for the kids," she went on.  "After my parents split up, it didn’t really seem the same."  She glanced over at him.  "So theatre and the opera?  High brow stuff.  Did you used to go with your folks very often?"

===

"Once or twice." Bruce focused on his breath, focused on every detail of every person around him. He listened to conversations, he felt the humidity against his skin. He did everything he could to prevent himself from being dragged under.

When the feeling passed, he realized his face had become quite stern. He instantly brightened up. “So! Splash zone seats are good, right?”

===

She watched him curiously.  She had obviously upset him, but… she wasn’t sure how.  She knew that Bruce’s parents had been murdered when he was a small boy… it had been big news then, and the shadow of that killing still hung over Gotham City.  

She had a knack of saying things and realizing later that she had said the  _wrong_  thing.

"The splash zone is fine," she said with a little laugh.

He was a complicated man, that much was certain.

===

"Oh, good," Brucie said gleefully. A person ahead of them held the door to the outdoor pool for them. He smiled his thanks and pulled Lois with him, taking her around the stands and right to the front. Half of the Splash Zone was sectioned off with the word "reserved" peppered around the velvet lines.

He grinned at her. “I couldn’t help myself.” He pulled out his wallet and showed his ID to security, who opened part of the line for them.

===

"Oh, you’re kidding," Lois said with a grin.  "There really are perks of traveling in your circle, aren’t there?"  She lightly nudged him in the side.

===

He was getting really tired of being touched.

Bruce walked to the center of the section and took his seat on the latter of two water-resistant cushions laid down. A cooler of bottled soft drinks was already set up in front of them, and judging by the rising spotlights, the show was about to start.

"I hear they’ve got a new dolphin," Bruce said idly. "A real jumper."

===

"Really?" Lois asked, trying to sound as interested as she could.  She wasn’t really able to be very convincing, though.  She was not accustomed to playing games and engaging in what could only be called typical bullshit.

She sat down beside Bruce and reached for a bottle of water.  ”So what made you choose this for our evening on the town?”

===

He shrugged. “Nothing in particular, just thought it would be fun. We only really get the circus in Gotham that’s this—”

"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls of all ages," a woman’s voice boomed over the speakers. A low thrill of music started, and the opening graphics played over a large screen in the background. "Welcome…to  _Underwater World_!”

All at once, four dolphins leapt high into the air, falling backwards in opposite directions. A roar of cheers filled the night sky. Each dolphin was introduced along with their trainers, and then without a moment of hesitation the first pair launched into the opening comedy act. The trainers were trying to teach the dolphins a new game, and the dolphins were taking their words far too literally.

===

Lois laughed along with the crowd and smiled good naturedly when she got a big splash from one of the dolphins.

===

Bruce had to remember to smile when he got drenched. He shook his head once and laughed when water went in every direction. The choice of shirt had been good; the dark red betrayed nothing underneath, though if he twisted too much he could hear the plastic over his gauze crinkle.

And then the orca was brought out. That meant the  _real_  splashes were about to begin.

Someone was poking around near the edge of the rope. Bruce looked over his shoulder and caught eyes with a girl and a little boy inching closer and closer, looking nervously between him and the one security officer.

Bruce smiled and jerked his head. The girl bit her lip, but the boy quickly crawled forward, happiness all over his face. Bruce held his hand up to stop the officer. “Kids deserve to be kids,” he found himself saying. A few others started to come forward, too. Just a couple. It was enough to make Bruce push himself closer to Lois. Kids may have deserved to be kids, but he wouldn’t mind if they did it a little bit further away from him.

===

"So we’ve got company," Lois observed.  Then, leaning a tad closer, she patted his hand and said, "That was very nice of you to let them stay."  She looked up into Bruce’s face and his always intense blue eyes.

"You’re pretty good with kids," she added.

===

"So long as I have a parent I can return them to," he said humorously.

Bruce put his arm around her back and let it rest on her side. The show went on with an impressive display between trainer and orca. They functioned more like a pair of acrobats than two separate species, and every section of the splash zone was being hit in turn.

Bracing for the impact, Bruce quickly pulled Lois to his chest. He wrapped himself around her to take the brunt of the water, and as he slowly blinked his eyes open, high-pitched cries rose high behind him. He turned slightly to see a mom shuffling her hijab in her beeline to get to her child. The kid looked absolutely stricken to be so wet.

===

She quickly wriggled out of his grip and turned around to see what was the cause of the commotion.  She saw the mother, and she quickly turned back and saw the practically petrified child.

"Oh, that poor thing," she said.

===

Bruce watched Lois’ actions with an observant eye. It really wasn’t that hard to read her like an open book with big, friendly letters. He knew exactly what Brucie would do, exactly how much Brucie would misinterpret. He couldn’t concentrate on that, though. Sure, there were women who were hotheaded and women who were brash, but none of them really had the combination of traits that Lois had. She was, quite honestly, different. And he couldn’t do that to her.

"Like I said, so long as I’m not the parent." Then he smiled and let himself get lost in the rest of the show, which ended up not having fireworks after all.

When all was said and done, and the crowd was busy filing its way out of the stadium, Brucie turned to Lois and regarded her with a carefully constructed expression. “You don’t actually like me that much, do you?”

===

 _He’s more clever than he acts._ A thoroughly confusing man… it would be easy to think he’s a vapid playboy without an original thought in his skull, but that wasn’t so.  There were times when you could almost see his brain working, like every line and every action was premeditated.  She had been quick to pick up on his lines, but it was clicking into place that those lines were chosen not to get him what he wanted, and maybe not even solely to make him appear something he wasn’t; all of it was to keep anyone from seeing what he was.  

But what was he trying so desperately to hide?  It wasn’t his sexuality… or at least not  _just_  that.  The man was a puzzle.

She smiled.  Sidestepping his question, she asked, “What would make you say a thing like that?”

===

Bruce closed his eyes and pushed his lips out flat. “Mostly because of that,” he said. Then he stood from his seat and curtly offer a hand to Lois. Brucie still had his manners, if not his dignity.

===

She looked at him and the hand he offered to her, a little defiance in her eye and said, “I’m not sure what you mean.  I thought we were having a fine time.”

===

"Fine, sure. But…" Bruce waved his free hand flippantly. This was exactly was exactly what he was thinking about, and exactly why she was so irritating. Someone somewhere could deal with this, but even as Brucie he couldn’t. "It’s not you, it’s me," he said in true Brucie fashion.

 

===

"You’re kidding me," Lois said, shaking her head.  "That is THE oldest line the book.  That’s how Adam told Eve to piss off when he didn’t want to call her the next day."  She rolled her eyes.  "You’re going to have to do better than  _that_ , playboy.”

===

Brucie raised an eyebrow. “Do you want to continue dating?”

 

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

"I’ve enjoyed spending time with you," she replied.  "Haven’t you enjoyed this?"

===

Bruce tucked both arms behind him in a stately fashion. “Of course. I just thought that, with the way you’ve been keeping your distance, you were thinking we’d be better friends than romantic partners. And with the distance that  _will_  come between us, when I go back to Gotham, I can’t help but agree.”

===

"You know, I feel like, for lack of a better word, a man when I say this, but I think you’ve been purposely sending me mixed signals," she said, nose wrinkled.  "You tell me to take it slow then you get your feelings hurt when I keep my distance.  How am I supposed to know what you  _really_ want?”

===

It was painful, at times, how aware Bruce was of himself.  _I’ll tell you as soon as I_   _know_ , he thought.

"It’s fine, don’t worry about it. I’m sorry this had to happen, Miss Lane. Can I give you a ride home?"

===

She shook her head.  ”That’s fine, Mr. Wayne.  I think I can manage just fine on my own.”  She stood up and walked gingerly around him.  Then, turning back, she added, “You know, I’m pretty sure you made up your mind what you wanted before you ever even brought up the subject, probably before you even asked me out the first time.”

She looked at him critically and had to wonder if this whole experience hadn’t been a blessing in disguise… because she was now starting to think that even if she could have gotten Clark and Bruce together that it wouldn’t have worked.  And she couldn’t have given her stamp of approval to a guy this undeserving.

===

Every muscle in his face was painstakingly pulled into the exact position it should have been in. _Should_  have. Because the smile on his face hardly reflected any of the relief in his mind, nor the sinking feeling of having been a disappointment in his heart.

Now all he had to do was break into LexCorp.

===

Lois was able to get a cab from the aquarium back to her side of town.  But instead of going to her own apartment, she had it take her four blocks south of there.  Clark’s apartment.

She knocked on the door and called, “Hey, Smallville, open up!”  Within a moment, Clark opened the door, standing there in his pajamas, looking as if he’d been asleep on the couch.  ”Are you wearing Muppet pajamas, Clark?”  Kermit and the gang were printed all over the low slung jersey knit PJs he wore with a white t-shirt.  She had to wonder where one bought Muppet pajamas in a size double farm boy.

"I wouldn’t have been if you had called first," he grumbled.  She pinched his cheek and stepped around him into the apartment, and he closed the door behind her.

She rolled her eyes.  ”When do I ever call?”  Then, leaning against the back of his couch, she said, “I was out, so I thought I’d drop in.  It’s not as if you were doing anything.”

Clark smiled at his friend.  ”Let’s just dispense with all the pleasantries, if that’s what you want to call them.  I know you’re here to brag about what a great time you had with Bruce.”

"I don’t brag," she protested.  And then, with a frown, she added, "And I don’t know that there’s anything to brag  _about_.”

"Oh?" Clark asked, eyebrows raised.

Lois shook her head.  ”It was a washout.  He’s a nice guy and everything, but God… what a flake.”  She put on a smile.  ”I think we may have both dodged a bullet.”

Clark raised an eyebrow.  ”Both?”

"Yeah, both," she said flatly.  "Just… cut the crap, huh?  I’ve had a long day and I’m sure I smell like ocean life… and I don’t have the energy to sit here and listen to you say you aren’t dying for a taste of that—"

"Don’t you dare finish that thought!" Clark interrupted.

She laughed.  ”Sorry, virgin ears.”  Then, shaking her head, she added, “He’s just not the guy for you, though.”

"You tested him out for me and can say that for sure now?" Clark asked playfully.

She rolled her eyes.  ”I went through a lot for you, Kent.  You could at least thank me.”

"I  _do_  thank you… but who asked you to do it?” Clark asked.  ”I believe I said to leave it alone.”

"And what kind of friend would I have been if I listened?" she asked.  "I had to try and see if I could make it happen for you.  You deserve a really spectacular guy, and I had to see for myself if Bruce was that spectacular guy.  Turns out he wasn’t, so I sent him packing."

Clark smiled.  ”I really appreciate that… but it wasn’t necessary.  Bruce and I…” He cut himself off and shook his head.  ”Nothing was going to happen between us.  And that has nothing to do with whether he’s straight or gay or other.”

Lois regarded him curiously and hesitated a moment before asking, “Are you ever going to tell me what happened between you two?  I know you’re keeping something from me.”

"There was a moment," Clark began.  "We had this one little moment that felt like it could have been something, but that’s in the past.  It wasn’t anything that happened, per se… but… sometimes you just know when to call in St. Jude."

She raised her eyebrow.  ”The kids’ hospital?”

"The patron saint of lost causes, Lois," he said softly.  "But… it’s okay.  It’s not as if I had real feelings for him.  It was a little crush.  Everyone gets them and everyone gets over them.  I’ll be fine."  Then he eyed her.  "But you’re the one that was dating him.  Are  _you_  going to be okay?”

She shrugged.  ”Of course.  I wasn’t dating him for my own benefit.”  Then with a little smile she said, “But you know, he’s so good that he did have me believing that I liked him for a moment there.  So it may be for the best.  I don’t think I’d have wanted you going out with a guy like that.  You’re not ready.”

Clark laughed.  ”Not that I need your permission.”

"Of course not," Lois said with a playful grin.  "Though whatever guy you bring around who _doesn’t_  pass my inspection is going to be sorry.”

"I don’t doubt that," Clark said with a soft smile.  He pulled his best friend into a hug.  "And the same goes for you."

"Please," Lois said with a laugh.  "As if I need  _you_  to protect  _me_.”

===

He took another shower before leaving for work. Then, staring up at heights he knew he had to climb, he felt a small bit of doubt. It was quickly turned into a desire to overcome his limits.

Batman did not like what he had to do in order to get into LexCorp. Luthor was the one man who was probably more paranoid than he, and the security reflected that. Changing his devices to be more specialized was the only way he could get in, and in doing so, he limited his options in case something went wrong. Batman hated that feeling.

The remnants of the graveyard shift were hunched over their computers and paying no attention to the shadow passing in the hallway. Batman went up the final stairs to the top of LexCorp’s headquarters, where he found Luthor’s office taking up nearly half the space. The man had an ego as big as his paranoia.

Surprisingly, or perhaps not surprisingly, getting  _in_  to Luthor’s personal computer was not as much of a challenge as getting to it. The man used Windows 7. Batman booted it in Safe mode, opened the command prompt, and activated the latent Admin account all Windows operating systems came with. The account had no password. Then he dropped a simple program into the hard drive, buried it well, and let it do its thing. It would self-destruct once the job was complete.

Bruce lifted his head and glanced around the room. Janitors must have cleaned here twice a day, he deduced. There was hardly a spec of dust to be found, and not a single trophy or decoration was out of place. He walked past the bookshelf and took note of none of the spines being broken, but upon inspecting a random title, he found creases from dog-eared pages. And about $200 buried in  _Common Sense_.

Sonics found nothing hidden in the walls except a very obvious and very empty safe. Then he went to the desk and started tapping.

One of the drawers had a false bottom.

 _Perfect_ , Bruce thought. It had only been a hunch, but he suspected that Luthor kept something truly personal in his office rather than at home. The man was only in his element when he felt like he was lording over someone. At home, alone, he would feel out of place. Here he was comfortable. Here is where he let his mind wander.

And here was a book bound by string and containing all sorts of loose leaf paper, each and every page titled with “Superman” followed by a number. Bruce flipped to the most recent addition, a sort of cyber spider looking thing. Luthor’s notes were hard to discern, and half of what Bruce could read were in shorthand and symbols.

He turned the pages backwards. A battle suit, possible slander campaigns, ways to pin Superman for the deaths of various people…And a gun. The page with the gun had several extra loose papers tucked in with it, all of them schematics, and a short list of initials off to the side. Two were circled, one was underlined.

Bruce pulled out his camera and began taking pictures. He left the notebook exactly as he remembered it.

&&&

A half-hour later, he knocked on Clark’s door. He was dressed in Sears-level civilian and a baseball cap on his head, and he could feel his wound bleeding again from all the grappling he did as Batman.

===

"So, are you staying?" Clark asked.  "I’ve got ice cream, popcorn, cheap wine and half a season of  _Modern Family_  on the DVR…”

Lois smiled and kicked off her shoes.  ”I thought you’d never ask.”  Then she said, “That show-off practically rented out a whole aquarium but he didn’t even take me to get a bite to eat, so I’m famished.  Shall we order a pizza?”

"Sounds great," Clark replied.  

Forty-five minutes later when they heard the knock at the door, they just naturally assumed it was the pizza delivery person.  So Clark bounded over to the door, and opened it and felt like his jaw might fall of.

"Bruce…?" he began.

Lois walked up behind Clark, arms crossed, and demanded, “Oh, what the hell is going on  _now_?”

===

Bruce had gone to Clark’s apartment to discuss what he had found. He didn’t call or text, because all of that could be tapped and traced. He also didn’t stand on the roof and verbally call for Superman because there was still an assassin on the loose, and the last thing he wanted to do was make him a sitting duck. This was the most logical route.

Staring down Lois, he immediately regretted his decision.

"I’m sorry, Miss Lane, but I have business to discuss with your associate," he said.

===

"What  _business_  could you possibly have with  _him_?” she demanded.  ”Except  _maybe_  funny business… and he’s not interested in that.”  Then, nudging Clark, she said, “Are you, Clark?”

"Lois, please," Clark said with a sigh.  And really, he did appreciate her protective streak.  It was very much like having a big sister sometimes.  Though right now, Big Sister was in the way.  Because he immediately recognized that Bruce wouldn’t have come there if he’d had any other option.  He said business, he meant business.  "Lois, could you maybe go wait in the lobby for the pizza guy?"

He shot Bruce a look and only hoped he realized just how difficult it was actually going to be to get rid of Lois.

===

In an instant, Bruce was aware of how hopeless this situation was. He could think of a hundred different things to say but all of them were ruined by the very fact that it was Lois in there with Clark, and not the usual type of girl he dealt with. ”Never mind,” he said. “It can wait until morning.” He waved a hand and walked for the stairs.

"When she leaves, get over to my place, no uniform," he said when he was out of normal human earshot. "I’ll be up all night."

===

As soon as Clark had turned back to Lois, after he heard what Bruce had to say, he saw that her face was a wall of steely determination.  It took a lot to intimidate Clark, but Lois was… Lois was tough enough to make Superman nervous.

"Business," Lois repeated.  "What kind of business…?"

Clark shrugged.  ”I don’t know.  He didn’t say.  But… who knows.  Maybe he wants advice on how to deal with you.”

"Oh, yeah right," Lois said, unconvinced.  "Are you two… do you have like some secret little _thing_  going on?”  Then, she smacked her head with the heel of her palm and said, “You know, that night in Gotham when he ran out and then you ran out just a few minutes later, I knew I should have been suspicious.  You’ve been hooking up since then.”  She grinned.  ”That’s it, isn’t it?”

Clark rolled his eyes.  ”You sound ridiculous.”

"That’s not a denial," she said.  "C’mon, Clark.  This is a little too suspicious.  Put me out of my misery."

He sighed.  ”I would tell you if I had anything to tell.”  The subject was dropped, but he could tell that Lois was unconvinced.  She remained very quiet as they had pizza and watched TV, and she left early.  Once Clark was sure she had actually left the building and wasn’t lurking around hoping to catch him in a lie, he put on a pair of jeans and a Metropolis Meteors hoodie and took of walking back to Bruce’s hotel.

He got more than a couple of dirty looks from the desk clerk of the hotel, and he was almost stopped as he told the elevator operator he was going to the penthouse.

"Mr. Wayne is expecting me," Clark insisted.  And he could tell by the way the operator looked at him that he was thinking some inappropriate things were about to happen, but Clark didn’t have the energy to worry about Bruce’s reputation as a ladies’ man right then.

He knocked on the door to the same massive suite he had visited before and took a deep breath.  All he could hope was that he and Bru— and Batman — would be able to get along.


	13. Chapter 13

Bruce flipped the latch on the door and greeted Clark with sweat pants, a white shirt, and a very demanding face. “What did you tell Lois?”

===

"Nothing," Clark replied.  "But she’s really suspicious.  She thinks…"  He cut himself off.  It wasn’t necessary to finish that thought… there probably wasn’t a soul left in Greater Metropolis who didn’t know what Lois thought, and now half the staff of the hotel thought the same thing.

"So… I assume you have news?" he asked.

===

Bruce blinked purposefully, and he hummed low in his throat. Then he stepped aside and went for his laptop. There was a USB stick jammed in the side. “See for yourself,” he said, turning the screen to face Clark. It showed a sketch of the prototype rifle specially designed to fire kryptonite bullets.

===

Clark looked at the screen, absorbed what he was seeing and sighed.  ”And you found these files at LexCorp?”

===

"Mm." He took his seat and tabbed through a few others. "Luthor has a whole book full of these…  _how to kill Superman_  ideas. He appears to be more obsessed than I thought.” He glanced at Clark through the corner of his eye, gauging a reaction.

===

"Wish I could say I was surprised," he said calmly.  "He imagines that when he kills me, people will think he’s a hero for ridding the world of the alien menace.  Or, even better, if I can die and he can look innocent and not even have to risk losing favor with the public."

 

===

Bruce stared thoughtfully at the screen. “How many times, exactly, has he tried to kill you?”

===

"Well, he’s  _always_  trying,” Clark said.  ”Determined man, that one.  I guess this would be the fifteenth or sixteenth serious attempt.  This will no doubt sound incredibly stupid to you, but you lose track after a certain point.”

===

He let his thoughts go for half a moment. It didn’t matter what had happened at the museum between them. Whether or not they had a positive relationship had no bearings on whether or not Batman was going to let Luthor get away with this.

Leaning forward, he hooked his thumb under his chin and concentrated on his screen. “How much money do you have right now?”

===

That was a strange question to get from a billionaire.  

"$67.12," he answered honestly.  He had never been sure if it was a Kryptonian thing or a journalist thing, but he was good with details like that.  He also knew that he had $2630 in his savings account and $492.98 in his checking account (almost half his rent… he’d have to transfer some money over before the first of the month if his rent check was going to clear).  But he figured Bruce was probably asking how much he had on him.

===

Bruce turned his head slowly towards Clark, both eyebrows raised incredulously. “I’ll see what I can do about getting you cash without looking suspicious. This is just a prototype sketch, but I can see the errors Luthor’s probably had fixed and put into the final design. The parts will have been made in two of three different Chinese or Mexican plants. I’ll track down the names for you. You’ll have to fly to them, talk to the people, do what you can about getting copies of the actual order forms. His Board wouldn’t approve of him using the company name for a personal project unless—”

He froze. The back of his neck went cold. It clicked in his head so fast  _he_  barely even understood how he came to the conclusion. But he did see it: the battle suit with an arm that could change function. Bruce quickly tabbed back and forth between that and the gun prototype, imagining in his head how the gun could fit in the armor. Armor that was also space-tight, a space station which would need security, and a loophole for Lex to assume full ownership…

And the words  _Battlesuit revis._  on the top of the page. Luthor wasn’t just good, he was scary good. Long-term goals, hour spent planning ahead…

Bruce actually slumped back in his chair. “There is no way we’re going to be able to pin this on Luthor directly. The company, yes, but the evidence against him specifically is so circumstantial that it’ll never hold up in court.” He ran his hand over his face. No, this was not how he imagined this would go. “Fine. We find the assassin, get this over with.”

===

"Wait, why are you suddenly giving me money?" Clark asked, eyebrow cocked.  "I’m not sure I’m comfortable with that."  Then he paused for a moment, long enough to replay the end of what Bruce had said.   _Get this over with._

He put his hands on his hips.  ”And… what do you mean by ‘get this over with?’”

===

"To fly to China and Mexico, boarding, etcetera. You need an actual investigation to go to court, not just ‘Batman told me.’" He left the images and started working through the Bat computer terminal his laptop was linked to. "And I mean, save your life. The weapon may or may not be in the suit itself by now. If it is, that impression we saw is likely a power source. But you would have heard  _that_  being lugged around, right?

===

"Right," he said, slightly embarrassed.  He had been so surprised by the sudden turn in conversation that he had been listening, but he hadn’t heard what Bruce was saying.   _Clark_  was going to do this, not Superman.  ”You just sometimes make these leaps in logic, and I can hear _pretty_  well, but I can’t hear your thoughts…”   _Stop talking or it’s going to sound like you’re picking a fight or trying to derail the conversation, and we don’t have time for that right now_.

He looked back at the battlesuit sketch.

He nodded, more to himself than to Bruce.  ”And yeah, I would imagine I would have heard something like that…unless Luthor’s scientists somehow came up with a way to keep me from hearing it.”

===

Bruce paused halfway through typing like a machine gun had gone off. “You’re right,” he said. “Active noise control. Play an antiphase noise and you can effectively mute a sound. And he wouldn’t need to mute an entire area, just one consistent sound. The timing would have had to have been perfect.” He furrowed his brows. “You’ll need body armor thicker than what I’ve got with me. We need to go to my Cave.”

===

Clark nodded.  ”Okay.  Let’s go.”

===

Bruce scowled. “Let me get changed first.” He shut the laptop and disappeared into the bedroom. Somewhere in the back of his mind he was very well aware of Clark’s x-ray vision, but he wouldn’t give in to childish embarrassments. 

When he came back out he was head-to-toe in the Batman suit. He glanced at the time, nodded, and went to the balcony. “Don’t go directly to the Manor. Circle around the cliffs and come in through the opening, I’ll handle security once we’re that far.”

===

He did a quick change into his Superman suit and followed Batman out onto the balcony.  He scooped Batman into his arms, hoping he wasn’t aggravating the open wound on his side.  ”Hold on.”

===

Bruce begrudgingly put an arm around Superman’s neck. He was not going to enjoy this, he just knew it.

===

He looked straight ahead as he flew, keeping his face expressionless.  He didn’t want Batman thinking he was smiling to himself as he carried him off to his cave.  That’d be awkward.

It didn’t take long to approach the cave.  He flew around the way Batman had told him, admittedly intrigued by what his home base must look like, and came up to the opening.

"What now?" he asked, looking down at Batman for the first time.

===

He all too quickly was glad to have his feet on solid ground. “Don’t move,” he growled out. 

Batman stepped forward and placed his feet in just the right spot. A section of the rock above him moved and light flashed, scanning him up and down. “Statement,” a synthesized voice pressed.

"Guest," he replied.

After a moment, everything went back to normal. “Parameters accepted.” Then the wall in front of him fell away, and the path to the inner Batcave was revealed.

Bruce moved quickly down the corridor. Soon it gave way to a large, expansive area built on a platform of smoothed rock. At the center of it all was an impressive collection of five monitors and one incredibly large desk. Batmobiles were parked nearer the back, a doorway led to a sectioned-off lab area — and towering above it all was a green Tyrannosaurus Rex prop.

Lights flickered on as Bruce moved to his storage closet. He heard the telltale clip-clap of Alfred’s shoes as he came out hefting the thickest roll of para-aramid weaving he had.

Alfred appeared coming down the stairs. He took in the scene, squinted his eyes, and frowned. “I was almost convinced that I needed to make an unfortunate call, but then I saw who you had for company.” He bowed his head to Superman. “Mr. Superman.”

===

"Oh," Clark said, smiling politely at Englishman.  "Just Superman is fine."  Then, realizing that the butler was probably privy to  _all_  of Batman’s secrets, which now included some of  _Superman’s_ secrets as well, he said, “Actually, call me Clark.”

He glanced around the cave and took in the impressive sights around him.  ”This is pretty cool,” he said.  ”Did you build all this?”

===

"Good heavens!"

Bruce sighed internally. He knew it was only a matter of time.

"You’ve barely been gone two days, and you’ve already got a new bullet wound." Alfred went over to the hospital cot and equipment.

"It’s fine, Alfred. I’ve already dressed it."

"I’ll believe that when I see it." Alfred returned with a kit and sat it on the bench in front of Bruce, then pointed. "Off."

Bruce could have hidden it. He really should have hidden it. But that would have just made this worse, so really, all that was left to do was to pass a glare at Clark and begin removing the armor.

===

Clark hid the little smile on his face.  It wasn’t the fact that the butler, Alfred, apparently, was fussing over him.  It was the fact that Alfred reminded him of his mother.

===

"And I just suppose you had to put a fire to it," Alfred commented the moment he saw the blistering.

Bruce held his arm out of the way as Alfred examined it. “That was Clark, not me.”

One of Alfred’s brows went high up his head.

===

 _Sure, throw_ me _under the bus_.

"He was bleeding pretty heavily," Clark explained.  "I had to cauterize it with my…" He trailed off and pointed to his eyes with an innocent little shrug.

===

Alfred was not impressed. “Can’t stitch it with burns. Would’ve ripped those, too, anyways.” He pressed a cotton wad full of antiseptics around the wound. Bruce hissed and screwed his face, keeping his teeth gnashed together until Alfred finally finished dressing it  _his_  way.

"Right," Alfred said when he finished, snapping his kit shut. "I’ll fetch refreshments. Coffee or tea, Clark? And would you like a bite to eat?"

===

"No, thank you.  I’m not hungry," he replied.  "But coffee would be great.  With cream and sugar, please… if it’s not too much trouble."  He glanced at Bruce and looked him over quickly… Alfred clearly kept him on his toes.

===

A look passed between Alfred and Bruce, then the butler was leaving and Bruce was pulling out a soft tape ruler. “I’ll need to take your measurements. Unless you happen to know them by heart.”

===

"I don’t," he replied.  He never bought clothes that fit properly, and when his mother made things for him, she eyeballed it.  "But yeah, that’s okay."  Looking at the measuring tape in Bruce’s hands, he wished he  _did_  know his measurements so he wouldn’t have to have Bruce’s hands on him, even for just a moment.

===

"Arms up, stand straight, and don’t move," Bruce recited. How many times had he heard Alfred say that to him?

 

===

Clark said, “Okay,” as casually as he could,  He stood as he was told and tried not to even breath too hard.

===

Bruce was quick and efficient with his measuring. His hands barely ghosted over Clark’s uniform, just faint flashes of touch as he lined the measuring tape up. But oh, how he thought about it. He thought about touching, holding, and tracing. It had been…some time, he realized, since he had been this close to someone he could—

 _No_. He finished, having not written down a thing, and went about preparing the weavings for cutting and shaping. It was a heavy material that felt like steel but bent like fabric, beige in color, though he had an assortment of dyes that he didn’t suspect they’d need. Not with their time constraints.

Alfred came back with two cups of coffee and set up the tray just off to the side. “Will that be all, sirs?”

===

He closed his eyes and tried to ignore the feeling of Bruce’s — of Batman’s hands when they would briefly have to touch him.  He noticed that Batman touched him as little as possible and kept himself as stern as ever… and he wondered if that was as difficult for Bruce as it was for him.  He wondered if the reason Bruce was trying not to touch him was because he really didn’t want to, or was it because he really  _did_?  

He wondered what those hands might feel like on his bare skin, had things been different.  Had there been a chance….

But there was little point in dwelling now on what might have been.

He watched Batman work, looking around him at all the curious things contained in the cave, and quietly took his coffee when Alfred brought it in.

When Alfred asked if they’d be needing anything else, Clark looked expectantly at Batman.

===

Bruce didn’t say anything in response, instead drawing lines with a dry erase marker. Alfred nodded once, eyed Superman suspiciously, then left with Batman’s damaged armor. Alfred had his own work station upstairs that he would use. He didn’t like being down in the ‘Cave.

Bruce felt incredibly exposed working like this. “Don’t touch anything,” he said suddenly and quickly, not even glancing up. Part of him scrambled for something else to say, something to fill in the stagnant air between them. That part was largely ignored.


	14. Chapter 14

Bruce flipped the latch on the door and greeted Clark with sweat pants, a white shirt, and a very demanding face. “What did you tell Lois?”

===

"Nothing," Clark replied.  "But she’s really suspicious.  She thinks…"  He cut himself off.  It wasn’t necessary to finish that thought… there probably wasn’t a soul left in Greater Metropolis who didn’t know what Lois thought, and now half the staff of the hotel thought the same thing.

"So… I assume you have news?" he asked.

===

Bruce blinked purposefully, and he hummed low in his throat. Then he stepped aside and went for his laptop. There was a USB stick jammed in the side. “See for yourself,” he said, turning the screen to face Clark. It showed a sketch of the prototype rifle specially designed to fire kryptonite bullets.

===

Clark looked at the screen, absorbed what he was seeing and sighed.  ”And you found these files at LexCorp?”

===

"Mm." He took his seat and tabbed through a few others. "Luthor has a whole book full of these…  _how_ _to kill Superman_  ideas. He appears to be more obsessed than I thought.” He glanced at Clark through the corner of his eye, gauging a reaction.

===

"Wish I could say I was surprised," he said calmly.  "He imagines that when he kills me, people will think he’s a hero for ridding the world of the alien menace.  Or, even better, if I can die and he can look innocent and not even have to risk losing favor with the public."

 

===

Bruce stared thoughtfully at the screen. “How many times, exactly, has he tried to kill you?”

===

"Well, he’s always trying,” Clark said.  ”Determined man, that one.  I guess this would be the fifteenth or sixteenth serious attempt.  This will no doubt sound incredibly stupid to you, but you lose track after a certain point.”

===

He let his thoughts go for half a moment. It didn’t matter what had happened at the museum between them. Whether or not they had a positive relationship had no bearings on whether or not Batman was going to let Luthor get away with this.

Leaning forward, he hooked his thumb under his chin and concentrated on his screen. “How much money do you have right now?”

===

That was a strange question to get from a billionaire.  

"$67.12," he answered honestly.  He had never been sure if it was a Kryptonian thing or a journalist thing, but he was good with details like that.  He also knew that he had $2630 in his savings account and $492.98 in his checking account (almost half his rent… he’d have to transfer some money over before the first of the month if his rent check was going to clear).  But he figured Bruce was probably asking how much he had on him.

===

Bruce turned his head slowly towards Clark, both eyebrows raised incredulously. “I’ll see what I can do about getting you cash without looking suspicious. This is just a prototype sketch, but I can see the errors Luthor’s probably had fixed and put into the final design. The parts will have been made in two of three different Chinese or Mexican plants. I’ll track down the names for you. You’ll have to fly to them, talk to the people, do what you can about getting copies of the actual order forms. His Board wouldn’t approve of him using the company name for a personal project unless—”

He froze. The back of his neck went cold. It clicked in his head so fast  _he_  barely even understood how he came to the conclusion. But he did see it: the battle suit with an arm that could change function. Bruce quickly tabbed back and forth between that and the gun prototype, imagining in his head how the gun could fit in the armor. Armor that was also space-tight, a space station which would need security, and a loophole for Lex to assume full ownership…

And the words  _Battlesuit revis._  on the top of the page. Luthor wasn’t just good, he was scary good. Long-term goals, hour spent planning ahead…

Bruce actually slumped back in his chair. “There is no way we’re going to be able to pin this on Luthor directly. The company, yes, but the evidence against him specifically is so circumstantial that it’ll never hold up in court.” He ran his hand over his face. No, this was not how he imagined this would go. “Fine. We find the assassin, get this over with.”

===

"Wait, why are you suddenly giving me money?" Clark asked, eyebrow cocked.  "I’m not sure I’m comfortable with that."  Then he paused for a moment, long enough to replay the end of what Bruce had said.   _Get this over with._

He put his hands on his hips.  ”And… what do you mean by ‘get this over with?’”

===

"To fly to China and Mexico, boarding, etcetera. You need an actual investigation to go to court, not just ‘Batman told me.’" He left the images and started working through the Bat computer terminal his laptop was linked to. "And I mean, save your life. The weapon may or may not be in the suit itself by now. If it is, that impression we saw is likely a power source. But you would have heard  _that_  being lugged around, right?

===

"Right," he said, slightly embarrassed.  He had been so surprised by the sudden turn in conversation that he had been listening, but he hadn’t heard what Bruce was saying.   _Clark_  was going to do this, not Superman.  ”You just sometimes make these leaps in logic, and I can hear _pretty_  well, but I can’t hear your thoughts…”   _Stop talking or it’s going to sound like you’re picking a fight or trying to derail the conversation, and we don’t have time for that right now_.

He looked back at the battlesuit sketch.

He nodded, more to himself than to Bruce.  ”And yeah, I would imagine I would have heard something like that…unless Luthor’s scientists somehow came up with a way to keep me from hearing it.”

===

Bruce paused halfway through typing like a machine gun had gone off. “You’re right,” he said. “Active noise control. Play an antiphase noise and you can effectively mute a sound. And he wouldn’t need to mute an entire area, just one consistent sound. The timing would have had to have been perfect.” He furrowed his brows. “You’ll need body armor thicker than what I’ve got with me. We need to go to my Cave.”

===

Clark nodded.  ”Okay.  Let’s go.”

===

Bruce scowled. “Let me get changed first.” He shut the laptop and disappeared into the bedroom. Somewhere in the back of his mind he was very well aware of Clark’s x-ray vision, but he wouldn’t give in to childish embarrassments. 

When he came back out he was head-to-toe in the Batman suit. He glanced at the time, nodded, and went to the balcony. “Don’t go directly to the Manor. Circle around the cliffs and come in through the opening, I’ll handle security once we’re that far.”

===

He did a quick change into his Superman suit and followed Batman out onto the balcony.  He scooped Batman into his arms, hoping he wasn’t aggravating the open wound on his side.  ”Hold on.”

===

Bruce begrudgingly put an arm around Superman’s neck. He was not going to enjoy this, he just knew it.

===

He looked straight ahead as he flew, keeping his face expressionless.  He didn’t want Batman thinking he was smiling to himself as he carried him off to his cave.  That’d be awkward.

It didn’t take long to approach the cave.  He flew around the way Batman had told him, admittedly intrigued by what his home base must look like, and came up to the opening.

"What now?" he asked, looking down at Batman for the first time.

===

He all too quickly was glad to have his feet on solid ground. “Don’t move,” he growled out. 

Batman stepped forward and placed his feet in just the right spot. A section of the rock above him moved and light flashed, scanning him up and down. “Statement,” a synthesized voice pressed.

"Guest," he replied.

After a moment, everything went back to normal. “Parameters accepted.” Then the wall in front of him fell away, and the path to the inner Batcave was revealed.

Bruce moved quickly down the corridor. Soon it gave way to a large, expansive area built on a platform of smoothed rock. At the center of it all was an impressive collection of five monitors and one incredibly large desk. Batmobiles were parked nearer the back, a doorway led to a sectioned-off lab area — and towering above it all was a green Tyrannosaurus Rex prop.

Lights flickered on as Bruce moved to his storage closet. He heard the telltale clip-clap of Alfred’s shoes as he came out hefting the thickest roll of para-aramid weaving he had.

Alfred appeared coming down the stairs. He took in the scene, squinted his eyes, and frowned. “I was almost convinced that I needed to make an unfortunate call, but then I saw who you had for company.” He bowed his head to Superman. “Mr. Superman.”

===

"Oh," Clark said, smiling politely at Englishman.  "Just Superman is fine."  Then, realizing that the butler was probably privy to  _all_  of Batman’s secrets, which now included some of  _Superman’s_ secrets as well, he said, “Actually, call me Clark.”

He glanced around the cave and took in the impressive sights around him.  ”This is pretty cool,” he said.  ”Did you build all this?”

===

"Good heavens!"

Bruce sighed internally. He knew it was only a matter of time.

"You’ve barely been gone two days, and you’ve already got a new bullet wound." Alfred went over to the hospital cot and equipment.

"It’s fine, Alfred. I’ve already dressed it."

"I’ll believe that when I see it." Alfred returned with a kit and sat it on the bench in front of Bruce, then pointed. "Off."

Bruce could have hidden it. He really should have hidden it. But that would have just made this worse, so really, all that was left to do was to pass a glare at Clark and begin removing the armor.

===

Clark hid the little smile on his face.  It wasn’t the fact that the butler, Alfred, apparently, was fussing over him.  It was the fact that Alfred reminded him of his mother.

===

"And I just suppose you had to put a fire to it," Alfred commented the moment he saw the blistering.

Bruce held his arm out of the way as Alfred examined it. “That was Clark, not me.”

One of Alfred’s brows went high up his head.

===

 _Sure, throw_  me  _under the bus_.

"He was bleeding pretty heavily," Clark explained.  "I had to cauterize it with my…" He trailed off and pointed to his eyes with an innocent little shrug.

===

Alfred was not impressed. “Can’t stitch it with burns. Would’ve ripped those, too, anyways.” He pressed a cotton wad full of antiseptics around the wound. Bruce hissed and screwed his face, keeping his teeth gnashed together until Alfred finally finished dressing it  _his_  way.

"Right," Alfred said when he finished, snapping his kit shut. "I’ll fetch refreshments. Coffee or tea, Clark? And would you like a bite to eat?"

===

"No, thank you.  I’m not hungry," he replied.  "But coffee would be great.  With cream and sugar, please… if it’s not too much trouble."  He glanced at Bruce and looked him over quickly… Alfred clearly kept him on his toes.

===

A look passed between Alfred and Bruce, then the butler was leaving and Bruce was pulling out a soft tape ruler. “I’ll need to take your measurements. Unless you happen to know them by heart.”

===

"I don’t," he replied.  He never bought clothes that fit properly, and when his mother made things for him, she eyeballed it.  "But yeah, that’s okay."  Looking at the measuring tape in Bruce’s hands, he wished he  _did_  know his measurements so he wouldn’t have to have Bruce’s hands on him, even for just a moment.

===

"Arms up, stand straight, and don’t move," Bruce recited. How many times had he heard Alfred say that to him?

 

===

Clark said, “Okay,” as casually as he could,  He stood as he was told and tried not to even breath too hard.

===

Bruce was quick and efficient with his measuring. His hands barely ghosted over Clark’s uniform, just faint flashes of touch as he lined the measuring tape up. But oh, how he thought about it. He thought about touching, holding, and tracing. It had been…some time, he realized, since he had been this close to someone he could—

 _No_. He finished, having not written down a thing, and went about preparing the weavings for cutting and shaping. It was a heavy material that felt like steel but bent like fabric, beige in color, though he had an assortment of dyes that he didn’t suspect they’d need. Not with their time constraints.

Alfred came back with two cups of coffee and set up the tray just off to the side. “Will that be all, sirs?”

===

He closed his eyes and tried to ignore the feeling of Bruce’s — of Batman’s hands when they would briefly have to touch him.  He noticed that Batman touched him as little as possible and kept himself as stern as ever… and he wondered if that was as difficult for Bruce as it was for him.  He wondered if the reason Bruce was trying not to touch him was because he really didn’t want to, or was it because he really  _did_?  

He wondered what those hands might feel like on his bare skin, had things been different.  Had there been a chance….

But there was little point in dwelling now on what might have been.

He watched Batman work, looking around him at all the curious things contained in the cave, and quietly took his coffee when Alfred brought it in.

When Alfred asked if they’d be needing anything else, Clark looked expectantly at Batman.

===

Bruce didn’t say anything in response, instead drawing lines with a dry erase marker. Alfred nodded once, eyed Superman suspiciously, then left with Batman’s damaged armor. Alfred had his own work station upstairs that he would use. He didn’t like being down in the ‘Cave.

Bruce felt incredibly exposed working like this. “Don’t touch anything,” he said suddenly and quickly, not even glancing up. Part of him scrambled for something else to say, something to fill in the stagnant air between them. That part was largely ignored.


	15. Chapter 15

_Because I’m a child who’s going to break something and then try to hide it_ , he thought, rolling his eyes.  But he wouldn’t say that, because civility was the order of the day… and sarcasm wouldn’t help anything.

"I’ll be on my best behavior," he said.  It still came out a little more sarcastic than he meant it to, but at least it wasn’t defensive.

He thought about thanking Batman again, this time for setting aside his personal feelings and helping Clark and working with him, but thank yous meant very little to him.  But the silence, the awkward silence, was so palpable that Clark realized he’d have to say something.  So he redirected his thoughts to the task at hand.

"So… what is this material you’re using?" he asked.

===

"Para-aromatic polyamide synthetic fiber." That was good, that was a fact. Bruce could deal in facts. "Thickest I have. Might need two layers. We should run a wet test before leaving to confirm." And that was probably  _too_  much.  _Great_. Two months in Italy and three in France, and here he was a bumbling fool.

Bruce whirled his hand loosely, gesturing to the Batcave in general. “You can look, but don’t touch,” he repeated, much softer than before. And then he regretted giving  _Superman_  that permission, because the guy already had metahuman strength, speed, and powers. And Bruce’s ‘Cave was…personal. He really should have made Superman wait outside, in hindsight.

===

Clark nodded.  He didn’t really have any follow-up questions, though he realized that he probably should have, if for no other reason than to give the awkward silence another break.

And he almost laughed at “look, but don’t touch,” because Batman must have really seen him as a child.  But… on second thought… it wasn’t funny after all.  So instead, he stood with his hands behind his back and continued to look around from where he stood.  He got the feeling that he’d make Batman even more uncomfortable if he was out of his immediate line of vision.

He glanced just then at the bats above, and watched them for a few moments before pointing upwards and asking, “How long did it take you to get used to  _that_?”

===

Bruce snorted, and he felt the faintest curve of a smile when he did so. It was — okay, it was actually pretty funny. Giant dinosaur, one-story penny, a supercomputer that could destroy half the world before breakfast if he really wanted to…And Superman asked him about the bats. Batman. He asked Batman if he liked bats.

"They’re impressive creatures, once you get to know them," he said charmingly. "Though I doubt Alfred will call them anything but rats with wings." Not since the accident. "There are a few feral cats that sit around some of the exits and snatch them out of the air when they come by. He feeds the cats sometimes, to encourage them to stick around."

Bruce used a sort of clunky, scissor-esque device lop his way along the lines. To actually sew pieces together he would need to use a nearby machine. And were they really talking about bats? He cleared his throat.

"But you must’ve had a few out on the farm, at least. Or did you get owls?"

===

"We didn’t get bats very often," he replied.  "But we did get owls.  They’d nest in the barn… and we had feral barn cats, too.  There was this one, a big black one with one grey paw that hung around for years when I was a kid.  He had these big, round eyes, and one was yellow and the other was green, so I called him Lemon-Lime."  He paused for a second, and in anticipation of whatever snarky comment Batman might make, he added, "It was a lot more clever when I was five.  Anyways, I was playing in the hayloft when I shouldn’t have been one night and Lemon-Lime was on the hunt.  I figured he was after a mouse until he came and dropped a baby owl by my feet.  I couldn’t stop crying… my dad told me I was lucky to have learned one of the hard lessons we learn on the farm so early."  He shrugged.  "Didn’t feel so lucky at the time."

 _And I have no idea why I just told you all of that_ , he thought.  He decided to stop talking… better not to try to fill  _every_  gap in conversation with boring farm anecdotes.

===

Bruce hefted the whip-stitched vest. “Here, try this on, make sure it fits,” he said. He didn’t have anything he wanted to say on the subject of hard lessons at young ages.

===

He slipped the vest on and stretched a bit.  ”It fits fine.”

===

"Don’t tell me you’re going to make him walk around in  _that_ ,” Alfred said, coming from behind Superman. He circled the bench and laid out the freshly repaired Batman armor. Bruce nearly jumped at it to get it back on.

"It’s going to go under the uniform," he said halfway through covering his torso.

"Then you’ll need to fix the uniform, too, so it’ll all fit." Alfred scrutinized the material Superman wore. "Upstairs, then. Master Bruce can polish off the Kevlar down here."

Bruce frowned. “I can sew cloth, too.”

"Whoever you’re trying to fool will be able to see your seams a mile away," Alfred said. He gathered up the tray and stand, including Bruce’s untouched coffee, and began up the stairs. He paused to look back at Superman.

===

It was pretty obvious that Bruce didn’t want him upstairs.  And that was fine… if he squinted he could just see his point.  

But on the other hand, he didn’t guess Alfred was the sort of man who took no for an answer.

He looked at Batman.  ”Well, it’d probably be best to let Alfred go ahead.  I’ll be out of your hair sooner… and I won’t touch anything up  _there_  either.”  He offered a tentative smile, hoping Batman would hear that as a joke and not annoyance.

===

Bruce smirked quietly as Alfred was the one who said, “You most certainly will not! I’ve arranged the Wayne family collection just so, and if you so much as put hair on a taxidermy out of place I’ll have you paying for it out of pocket, Superman or not.”

==

Clark smiled.  ”Yes, sir.  You see, I couldn’t even get in trouble if I wanted to.”  Then, looking back to Alfred, he added, “Which I don’t.”

 

===

Alfred was studying something off in the distance. Then he blinked once, and he was back in the present. “Then up this way. I’ll show you to the sewing room before taking care of these.”

===

Clark followed Alfred up into the main house and let out a low hum as he saw the kind of home he had only ever seen before in magazines or on television.  He could see why Alfred would be protective of the place… what he couldn’t see was how Alfred managed the place without a whole army of servants to help him.

He followed Alfred up to the second floor and into a room toward the end of the hall.  Inside the room, there were several rows of shelves with neatly arranged bolts of fabric, several bins of notions sorted into little compartments, several dressmaker’s dummies, and a table with a top of the line, professional grade Singer sewing machine.

Across from the sewing table, there was an antique screen set up as a room divider, and Alfred motioned toward it.  ”Come along now.  You may change back there and hand me your uniform.”

He didn’t really need a privacy screen, but he did as he was told.  Moments later, he was back in his jeans and t-shirt, and he was handing his Superman suit to Alfred.  The man critically eyed the blue fabric, tugged on it a bit.  ”Cotton?” he asked.  ”This stands up to the speeds at which you fly?”

"I’ve got this sort of aura thing," Clark said.  "It kind of protects anything in close contact with my body.  That’s why the suit is almost indestructible when I wear it, but just normal cloth when I take it off."

Alfred nodded, as if that was the most ordinary thing he had ever heard.  ”I see.”  Then he pulled a pair of scissors and a seam ripper out of the sewing box on the table and said, “Then these will do nicely.”  Alfred took his seat and began undoing the seams up the side of the suit and added, “I’ll simply let out these seams.  It won’t take long.”

"Thank you, Alfred," Clark said with a smile.

Alfred was already working.  ”No thanks are necessary, sir.”

Once the seams were ripped out, Alfred ironed the fabric flat and pulled out his measuring tape.  ”I’ll need exact measurements with you wearing the vest.  Stand up straight, arms out…”  Then, looking up, “And none of this foolish modesty.  Off with the t-shirt and put the vest on.”

Clark did as he was told and Alfred measured him again, and then quickly went back to work pinning and sewing the new seams.  When he was done, he handed the suit to Clark and had him change into it with the vest underneath.  When he was changed, Alfred looked him over, very critically and decided that he passed muster.

Silently, Alfred escorted him back down to the Cave.

===

Bruce was back in full uniform, though his cowl had been pushed down. He stood in front of the central computer, studying maps of Metropolis on two of the screens. “We’ll need to be as in control of the situation as possible. The assassin knows I’m there, though, which will make things difficult.”

===

Clark nodded.  ”That’s… true.  And with their noise control set up, I have no way of knowing when the assassin could be lurking just out of my line of vision.”

===

Growling at the back of his throat, Bruce tabbed over to a different section of map. There was absolutely no way to substantially predict the assassin’s next setup, though it was safe to say he would surely attempt something during or after Superman’s next heroic act, and if Luthor was truly desperate he might even offer himself or one of his assets as bait.

"I’m giving you a communicator. Everything you do as Superman, you need to tell me about beforehand," Bruce said. He pulled a very small earpiece from a drawer and started fiddling with it. "You are a target. You need to pay attention to everything around you all the time. You need to constantly scan, constantly search, and constantly consider every action of everyone around you if you are going to have any resemblance of safety out there."

He held the communicator out. “If anything looks suspicious, you tell me. If anything goes wrong,  _you tell me_. Understood?”

===

He nodded and took the communicator.  ”Right.  Okay.”  That sounded like… a lot to remember, but it was necessary, and he recognized that.  And this was what Bruce went through, but without a Bruce on the other end of the line.

"How do you do it?" he asked.  "How do you do this all the time?" 

===

How did he do it? How did he do anything, really? Bruce found himself unprepared for the question. Not only was in uncanny in its quick insight, but even though he opened his mouth with the desire to offer a lengthy explanation…he couldn’t come up with one. “You get used to it,” he said instead. 

He quickly set his face into its usual severity. “And one last thing: keep the heroics between dusk and dawn. I’m not going to leap about mid day.” Bruce strode over to the Batmobile and quickly fired up its engine.

===

He furrowed his brows.  With a little sigh, he said, “Well, that’s going to complicate things for me.  But… I suppose I can do that.”  Then, shaking his head apologetically, “Not that I’m being ungrateful.”

===

Bruce hummed. “I’ll call you when I need a lift back,” he said. He still had about two hours he could use as patrol in Gotham left, and right now, he really needed that. Besides, if he hit the right places, word would travel quickly to Metropolis that Batman was back where he belonged.

&&&

Alfred watched Bruce take off in his car. “He’s going to need fresh bandages by the time he comes back.” He sighed, then turned to Clark. “I think he quite likes you, even if he doesn’t know it. He just left you alone in his cave, after all.” With a cursory nod, he made his way back up the stairs.

===

Clark smiled at Alfred.  Maybe he was right… maybe Bruce didn’t hate him.  And that was at least something.  He wouldn’t allow himself to hope that they could be anything more than  _not_ enemies, but it would be nice to one day realize that they had become friends.

===

She was an ever-lurking gargoyle, an ever-watching grotesque. She was a mismatch of the past, present and future, a quilt of broken dreams and hopeful realities, all covered in dirt and grime and chaos. She was ugly. She was beautiful. She was home.

Batman had missed Gotham.

It was refreshing in a way unlike anything he had described before. He didn’t need to think about where he was or what he was doing. He didn’t need to plan ahead. He didn’t need to analyze a hundred different possibilities because he knew them all, all buried deep in his heart. He could just let go, and he could  _fly_.

"It’s the bat-brat!"

"Nah dude, that’s the Bat _man_!”

 _Bat-brat_? Bruce frowned as he landed from his glide. He was hardly old, but he wasn’t young. These goons looked younger than him. In fact, as he brought his fist to meet the face of one of them, he judged them to be younger than him.

Batman left the Intergang outpost safe house and continued his patrol. He even managed to make an appearance with Gordon, who didn’t have much other than his continued thanks for watching the city. Gordon was a good man. Batman wished he could do more for possibly the only good cop in the whole island city, but that would have to wait. Judging by the light, his time was up.

Bruce returned to the Batcave refreshed, relaxed…and completely surprised to see Cla—  _Superman_  still there. “I thought you might’ve gone back to Metropolis for a while,” he said, closing the Batmobile door. Alfred seemed to materialize out of thin air and was immediately poking at his side.

 


	16. Chapter 16

"Figured it’d make just as much sense to wait for you," he said, shrugging.  He wasn’t entirely sure why he hadn’t left… other than the fact that no one told him he had to, he wasn’t entirely sure.  "I could hear Metropolis pretty well from here… it isn’t all that far."  

Then, chancing a look at Batman’s face, or, what he could see of it, he added, “I hope you don’t mind.  I didn’t bother anything.”

===

Bruce stared, frozen in spot. “You can  _hear_  Metropolis. From  _here_?”

===

Clark shrugged.  ”Sure.  If I focus.  I’ve been training myself on how to handle my hearing and vision and such since I was a kid.  I can focus in so I just hear the conversation we’re having right now, or I can make it broader and listen to… a much bigger area.”  

This was one of those things that he said honestly and accidentally reminded people of what a… Well, when he was being stared at like that, it was hard not to feel like a freak.  But he didn’t have the time, or any good reason, to feel sorry for himself right now, so he pushed the thought aside.

===

"That’s how you always know when you’re needed, isn’t it?" Bruce asked. He took a step forward when Alfred left him, seemingly satisfied that Bruce hadn’t done nearly as much damage as he had anticipated.

Bruce ran the new information through his mind very quickly. He had thought Superman’s hearing was just a larger range, like that of a cat or dog, but this…This lead to so many other questions. Did he hear every gunshot? Did he hear every dying breath? How did he decide who to save and who he to ignore? How did he…How did he still smile? How did he still have a laugh that covered his skin?

Concern had leaked onto his face. Bruce wasn’t even aware of it.

===

Clark nodded.  ”Yeah.  That’s also why it’s hard to  _just_  stay in Metropolis sometimes.”

He watched Bruce’s face and felt… confused.  Bruce was a confusing man.  Because a moment before, the look on his face had almost looked like fear… and now he was looking at him as if he was a kicked puppy.    

"I only ever listen to everything when I’m away from home," Clark went on.  "It actually starts to hurt pretty quickly.  Scared the hell out of me when I was little… before I knew how to control it."

===

"Hm." Bruce let quiet contemplation settle on his shoulders. He moved through his ‘Cave and quickly gathered a few supplies he would need. At one point he caught the curious gaze of Alfred, but reverted his eyes to packing up the new toolbox.

Alfred cleared his throat. “At what point do you expect the master Bruce Wayne to be back in Gotham?”

"Probably tonight," Bruce said. "The deal with LexCorp is going south, and with what Luthor has stashed in his office…" He glared at the toolbox, then snapped it shut with more force than necessary. "I’ll have to talk to Lucius and see what we can do about our other contracts. See if he’s open for me to drop in this evening, will you?"

"Right, sir. If by ‘this evening’ you mean—"

"Roughly nine hours from now, yes." Bruce carried his luggage over to Superman. "Let’s go. I have a 10 o’clock appointment to derail."

===

After having flown Batman around a couple of times now, Clark knew the drill.  Carefully took him into his arms and flew quietly, staring straight ahead.  Back to Metropolis, and back to work. 

===

Bruce had the box on his chest between them, but still he could feel the heat radiating from every other part of Superman. Of Clark. Because Clark woke up and he was Superman, all the time, every day. He could control his anatomy, but he couldn’t turn it off.

Bruce let out a small sigh and closed his eyes. God, he was tired. Patrolling Gotham may have revitalized his spirit, but it was hell on his body. And he had to be awake almost all day tomorrow, what between Lex and an “impromptu” visit to another certain CEO. Perhaps he would catch a nap on the plane home, but then it would be Lucius, paperwork, and back to Metropolis.

If he hooked his ear on Clark’s uniform just right, he could relax his neck muscles. And he wouldn’t sleep, but for five minutes he could pretend.

===

He didn’t notice at first that Bruce had closed his eyes, but when he felt his head resting against him, he looked down and he couldn’t help but smile.  He looked tired, like a man who never stopped going… but he also looked sweet, like a little boy who never wanted to stop going.

And he could tell that Bruce wasn’t asleep.  His breathing pattern hadn’t changed enough.  But it was almost better that he wasn’t.  Because the fact that he was awake and  _allowing_  himself to be vulnerable must have meant that he trusted Clark.  And that was the last thing Clark expected.

===

Bruce was alert the moment the Radison was in sight. He looked around him, wondered if anyone noticed a black blur accompanying the red blur. Alfred would have no doubt ordered food for him, and this time Bruce would actually drink the coffee. He tried not to do it too much.

There was a primeval temptation to just curl himself against Clark, to lose himself in that warmth and let himself sleep. But like before, he let himself down as soon as they were above the patio, perhaps a bit more quickly than usual.

Bruce turned to Clark.  _Be safe, be careful, call me_  all went through his head. “Remember what I said. Keep your communicator on at all time,” he said out loud.

===

"I will," Clark said with a nod.  He started to say goodnight, but…

Well, why not?  It couldn’t possibly hurt.

"Goodnight," he said with another little nod, just before he flew away.

===

Bruce huffed out a small smile. “Good  _morning_ ,” he replied. Then he turned around and started his day.

===

He glanced over his shoulder and smiled, but Bruce was already gone.  It didn’t really dawn on him until later, as he was climbing into bed to get whatever sleep he could, that they had gotten along the whole time they’d been together.

&&&

Walking to work in the morning, Clark started doing as Batman had said — he was on his guard and he’d notice  _everything_.  He extended the range of his hearing a little as he passed by a very young mother and her children.   The woman was bent over in front of a little boy who was maybe four or five years old and had a face full of freckles, buttoning his jacket and giving him a lecture on why you don’t say “certain words” at school.  Next to the two of them was a smaller girl, who was probably two years old and had puffy pigtails and a round tummy, tugging on the hem of her shirt and trying to get her attention because the stroller that the third child, another boy who couldn’t have been older than a month, was sleeping in was rolling out into the street during morning rush hour traffic.

He knew he’d have been able to change into his Superman uniform and get the stroller in time.  But… he couldn’t.  Yet… he  _had_  to.  Batman would understand.

In the split second it took him to contemplate this, he felt his body move out of habit and instinct.  As Clark, he threw himself into the intersection and pulled the stroller away unharmed.

"My baby!" the young woman screamed, snapping to attention as tears began to flood her eyes.  Once the child was safely in her arms, she said, "Thank you so much, mister.  I don’t know what I would have done… I don’t even want to think about what might have happened…"  She shook her head.  "But are  _you_  okay?  Didn’t that car run over your foot?”

Looking down at his shoe, he saw tire marks.  He hadn’t even felt it.  ”You don’t have to thank me, ma’am.  I’m just happy I was here.  And I’m fine… don’t worry about me.”

He had to limp out of sight.  It hadn’t even been an hour, and having Superman out of commission during daylight hours was already more difficult than he had expected.

&&&

Clark was surprised that evening, as he reheated some leftover beef stew from his weekly dinner in Smallville with his parents, when he realized that  _not_  being Superman all day had left him feeling rather distracted and, if he was being honest, a little exhausted.

He had high hopes that he and Batman would be able to find and stop the assassin soon and then things could go back to normal.

All that was left to do now was to wait for Batman to give him the call… and he was feeling uncharacteristically impatient.

Impatient to get started,  _not_  impatient to hear from Bruce.

Well, maybe that too… but just a little bit…

===

He almost fell asleep on the car ride over.

"No, I know this is sudden…But Lucius, just think about the possibilities!" Bruce pushed his way in to LexCorp’s lobby and was immediately escorted to the elevator. "Yes, I know… Look at the plan I sent you… Well they didn’t have any pens at the time… Yeah. Okay. Thanks." He hung up his phone.

Brucie grinned wide for Mercy. “You wouldn’t believe how hard it is to get a business deal formalized when it’s written in crayon,” he said to her.

Mercy pointedly stared ahead.

That was just as good. Bruce didn’t want to talk to her anyways, but he had to admit, he did enjoy how annoyed she looked by the time he entered the meeting. By the time he walked out, STAR Labs’ lawyers were throwing a fit with Luthor, the deal was safely sunk, and she had Hell written on her face.

He took the next flight back to Metropolis, but not before stashing his toolbox in Clark’s apartment. It wouldn’t get past security, and anyways, that’s where it needed to be.

Bruce was more than happy that he had his end of the communicator’s microphone turned off as he settled into his first class seat. The hostess started flirting with him, and that was exactly the kind of thing Brucie responded to by leaning forward, smiling brightly, and saying whatever airheaded thing he could think of.

He did not get his nap.

"Tired, sir?" Alfred commented as he slid into the car.

"More than you know," Bruce replied. He listened to his communicator, tried to keep the sounds from Clark’s world from letting him fall asleep. "Take me to Lucius. And do you have a pen?"

&&&

Two and a half hours later, and Bruce let his hand drop in front of him. He was getting no where on the Lex angle, not  _legally_. At least he managed to find out a bit more about the suits LexCorp was developing. He’d see what he could do when he was back in Metropolis.

“‘S,’” he said into the comm, holding down the microphone activator with two fingers. “Pick me up in twenty.” He needed a hot shower first.

===

"Got it," Clark replied.  

Exactly twenty minutes later, he landed on the balcony.

===

Bruce had miscalculated how much hot water he needed. The plastic covering his side crinkled as he shook his hair dry with one hand, the other being used to loosely pinch a towel around his waist.

And then he stopped halfway to his wardrobe. “What are you doing on my  _balcony_?” Bruce asked Clark.

===

"I… uh…" he blushed.  So hard.  He turned around and then out his face in his hand.  "I’m sorry.  You said twenty minutes and you’re normally so… I thought you’d bitch at me if I was late."  

 _God, how awkward_.  He had to bite his tongue but…  _ohmygod_.

===

Really, after all the time Bruce spent half-naked in front of Clark already, he didn’t have it in him to be embarrassed by this anymore. Still, the blush was charming, and if Clark was going to keep his back turned, he might as well ditch the towel. 

"Cave, outside the cliff entrance. I’ll meet you there when I’m ready." He pulled his robe off the closet doorknob and slipped it on his shoulders.

===

He wanted to insist that he was not, in fact, a peeping tom, but… he’d have just embarrassed himself further by fumbling with his words.  

He went to wait for Bruce outside the Cave and hoped he would be back to normal color by the time they saw one another again.

===

"Most people use the front door," Alfred commented, stepping aside. He followed Bruce nearly shoulder-to-shoulder down the hall.

"Most people also can’t fly. He has a balcony on his apartment, it probably felt natural to him."

Alfred regarded him with a quizzical look. He hummed. “Of course. You wouldn’t happen to know if he has a spare bed, too, would you?”

"No. Why?"

"Because, sir, you’re nearly over 48 hours without so much as a wink. I worry about your capabilities in the field if—"

"I’ll be fine, Alfred." Bruce stopped and turned the hands on the grandfather clock. "I’ve gone longer than this. A  _lot_  longer.”

Alfred sighed heavily. “Of course, sir.” He waited for the clock to finish moving before he added, with no small amount of smarm, “But if you fall asleep in his arms I am taking a picture and using it as blackmail.”

Bruce’s first reaction was panic. He quickly schooled it with a more mild disconcert. “That’s not going to happen.”

"Mm, no, of course not. Have a good trip, Master Bruce. I will see you in the morning."

Bruce descended into the Batcave and got himself properly dressed. He was perhaps a bit more steelish than he thought when he stepped out next to Clark and growled, “Let’s go.”


	17. Chapter 17

"Okay," Clark said hesitantly.  Then, as he picked him up, he couldn’t help saying, "And I’m sorry about before.  I didn’t think you’d want me turning up at the front door like I was selling Girl Scout cookies or something."

===

Bruce was too preoccupied thinking about how to deduce whether or not Clark heard his little exchange with Alfred, because really he was already fighting back the yawns. It took more concentration that it normally would have for him to keep himself from even so much as closing his eyes too long. As soon as they were on the ground it would be better, he told himself. That and perhaps an adrenalin shot.

===

Clark kept quiet, realizing that he’d said enough.  Bruce didn’t  _seem_  mad or anything, so he took that as a good sign.  Clark just let him be quiet and have his time to concentrate, because the silence between them was comfortable and almost companionable… infinitely preferable to the awkward silence that might have followed if he had pushed any further.

They landed in Metropolis quickly and Clark left Batman to his post.  He headed across the skyline, weaving around tall buildings and smiling down at the city below.  Though it had just been for the day, he had missed flying over his city and watching from above, and now he felt like he was home.

He headed towards Centennial Park.  He kept his ears and eyes open so he could notice everything, like he had practiced all day.  Almost immediately he heard the sound of two hearts speeding up.  He looked down and saw an elderly couple on a late night walk through the park being accosted by a young man with a ski mask on his face.

"B," he began over the comm.  "I’ve got an attempted mugging in the southwest corner of Centennial Park.  I’m going in."

===

Bruce examined his internal map of the area, immediately cross-checking sight lines with where he himself would go, if he were the sniper. It narrowed down the possibilities to a neat short list.

"Six o’clock, seven, seven-thirty, and ten," Bruce replied. "Check those carefully but scan the entire area. Remember what I said."

===

"Right," he replied.  He scanned quickly from above before moving in a little closer and taking a longer look at the spots Bruce mentioned.  "On it."

He touched down behind the mugger, hoping to have the advantage of surprising him.  But the looks on the elderly couple’s faces alerted him that something was behind him, though he didn’t know what.

The look of fear, coupled with the, “holy shit, it’s Superman!” that came out of his mouth made Clark snort a little laugh.

"I certainly hope you aren’t bothering these nice people, young man," he said.

The mugger stepped back one.  ”N-no, sir.”  He was young, maybe only 17 or 18.

Clark nodded.  ”Give me the gun.”

The boy shook his head and began to protest.  ”I don’t—”

Clark stepped forward once and lowered his voice an octave.  ”Give me the gun.  Now.”

The boy, who was about 5’10” and maybe 175 pounds, reached into the pocket of his hoodie and withdrew a little revolver.  Clark took it and shook his head.  ”Stole it from your mom’s purse?”  The boy nodded.  ”Listen, I know you don’t want to get yourself into trouble.  Not really.  So think of this as your second chance.  Fresh start.”

The boy nodded.  ”Yes, sir.  Thanks, Superman.”

Clark nodded.  ”But if I ever catch you bothering any more nice people or doing so much as skipping your English class…”

"I got it," the boy replied.

"Go home and go to bed," he warned, and the boy ran off.

He made sure the elderly couple were both okay, and when he was satisfied that they were, he flew off.

===

That was  _painful_  to listen to. So painful, Bruce actually had to stop his smile from taking over his face.

"Boy Scout," he said into the mic. He was back in Clark’s apartment, pulling out his first toolbox and connecting a device to Clark’s laptop. Then he was out the window and moving. "What’s next, kite stuck in a tree?"

===

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Clark grumbled with a smile.  "And maybe we’ll get lucky and a teddy bear will have fallen into the river.  That’s always exciting."

===

"Except the teddy bear will have been made by Toyman," Batman replied. It was hard not to make the connection. 

Metropolis was an awful city to try to get around, he decided. Everything was bright and sleek, and the architecture left little for him to maneuver with. He found himself naturally drawn to Suicide Slum. Darker, older buildings, many more ledges — and yet, still oddly  _Metropolis_  in all of its ways.

"Superman," he said calmly. He was staring down at a group of boys, barely in their twenties and all wearing blue scarves, pushing around a kid who was probably in the wrong neighborhood. His first reaction was smoke grenades to scare them all off. But this wasn’t his city, and part of him really wanted to know how Clark would handle this.

===

He looked over to where Batman had directed his attention and quickly assessed the situation.  ”On it,” he replied.  Scanning the area again, he landed near the group and strode up to them, arms crossed.

"What seems to be the trouble here, guys?" he asked, smiling his most irritatingly earnest smile.

The leader of the group jutted his chin up and tried to look tough.  ”No trouble, Supes.  Just a group of old friends havin’ a little chat.”

Another boy, who was standing beside the kid they had been pushing around, growled.  ”Just hanging out.  Isn’t that right?”  He put his hand on the boy’s shoulder and squeezed him hard.

"Ow," the boy cried, trying to wrench himself out of the older boy’s grip.  He was probably 16, very short and slight, and, if Clark had to venture a guess, probably gay.  He was dressed well enough, but not so well that he screamed wealthy… but he was alone and looked terrified.  It was hard not to punch each one of those older boys.

"Take your hand off of him," Clark demanded, voice dark.  "Now."

"Okay," the boy said in a singsong voice.  "Sor-ry."  His friends laughed.

The leader of the group tsked.  ”I’m surprised at you, Superman.  I thought you were supposed to be so friendly and helpful… and so far you haven’t been too friendly to us.”

"I don’t like bullies," Clark said casually.  The leader scowled and took a swing at Clark’s face.  He let the punch connect and heard the sickening crunch of a knuckle and three fingers breaking.  About five of the guys behind him ran for it and the kid they had been bothering tried to make his escape, too.  Clark stood in front of him and tried to keep him from leaving.

"Did you really think that was a good idea?" he asked.  "Now, you go to the emergency room and have your hand examined.  Fair warning, you’re going to be in a cast for a while.  And that hand will never be the same… and I want you to think about this moment every time you have to wince when you make a fist.  Go!"  The boy grumbled and left, and Clark threw a menacing look to the remaining members of his gang and that scared them off as well.

He turned back to the boy, who had a few tears in his eyes.  ”Hey, are you okay?” he asked softly.

The boy wiped his face and nodded.  ”Yeah.  They didn’t hurt me.”

"Not physically anyways," Clark commented, and the boy nodded again.  "I know it’s really tough when guys like that come at you, but you are so much stronger than they are.  You’re strong enough to be yourself, and that’s a beautiful thing."  He gently placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder.  "There’s nothing wrong with being different.  I’m different, too."  He offered an encouraging smile.

The boy nodded.  He’d no doubt heard all of that before, but Clark wouldn’t have felt right if he didn’t try.  ”Thanks, Superman,” the boy replied.

Clark nodded and smiled.  ”No thanks are necessary.  Just get home.  It’s a school night.”

He flew away.  If Bruce had thought he was a boy scout before…

===

He had his pad open, the mini monitor stored in his gauntlet, and he had been working the Lex angle, trying once again to figure out some way to pin this on more than just LexCorp in general. There were good people in there, people who probably had no idea what was going on. And Lex wouldn’t hesitate to blame them. 

By the time Superman flew away, his brows were creased in a deep line. He had expected the Boy Scout routine, had told himself exactly what would happen, and he had even been right, more or less. But as he stared down at the information in front of him, he realized he hadn’t read a single word of it.

 _I’m different, too_ , Clark had said.  _I’m different, too_. It was the simplest three-letter sentence in the world, and it was completely stuck in Bruce’s mind.

Batman made a sort of disapproving sound. “Good job, Superman,” he uttered. He moved on.

===

Clark nodded and said, “Thanks,” because what else was he supposed to say?

&&&

After a couple of fairly uneventful hours, Clark decided that he might as well turn in for the evening, or early morning, as it were.  He had work in the morning, and he and Lois were supposed to interview the deputy mayor for a piece they were working on.

"Hey, Batman," he spoke into the comm.  "I think we should be about done for the night."

===

"LexCorp’s west offices," Batman replied. He turned the mic off and canceled the remaining data transfer. He’d get the rest later, he already had plenty to go through as it was. 

He waited on the rooftop for Superman.

===

He quickly made his way over to Batman and landed on the rooftop.

"Hey," he said with a half smile.  He wasn’t exactly a hundred percent sure what was going to happen now.

===

Bruce looked him up and down. “Is something wrong?”

===

He hadn’t known what to expect, but he wouldn’t have figured on  _that_.

"No," he said, shaking his head.  "Not at all.  I just…" His voice trailed off and he shrugged.  "So, what now?"

===

He made a small  _hmph_ in his chest. ”Back to Gotham,” Batman said. And really, he didn’t want to be touched anywhere, much less carried, but the world wouldn’t pause just because he didn’t  _feel_  up to it. He had a lot to go over and not enough hours in the day to do it. “And don’t touch your computer, I’m using it.”

===

"Right," he said.  "Okay."  

He scooped Batman up, careful as always, and looked straight forward as he flew off towards Gotham, maybe a little faster than normal.

They landed in the normal place, and Clark said, “So I guess I’ll see you later.”

===

Bruce paused halfway through the entrance to the ‘Cave, his hand steady on the rock beside him. He had a sudden urge to say something, but he couldn’t figure out what it was he wanted to say. It felt like it was sitting at the very tip of his tongue, or perhaps in the back of his throat, and it was somewhere between  _don’t_  and  _go_. But it wasn’t either of those words combined. 

He slipped inside and let the door closed behind him. At least he hadn’t fallen asleep on the way back.


End file.
